Weasley Girl: Secrets of the Past
by Hyaroo
Summary: Sequel to "Weasley Girl"! Potter's Gang are back for their second year at Hogwarts, perhaps hoping for a more peaceful year this time around. But with a dramatic escape, a mysterious diary, a strange cat, a "loony" girl, a hidden monster and many past secrets coming to light, it looks like this year will be at least as eventful and dangerous as the previous one.
1. The Rescue

**Welcome, welcome to **_**Weasley Girl: Secrets of the Past! **_**(I considered calling this story "**_**Weasley Girl 2: Weasley Girl Harder,"**_** but decided that'd just sound like an unfortunate innuendo and the joke wasn't that funny anyway.)**

**For any new readers: In case you couldn't guess from the above statement, this is the sequel to my previous fic, **_**Weasley Girl.**_** I do suggest you read that before you read this one, but the premise is that Ron Weasley was born a girl****, named Veronica "Ronnie" Weasley**** - and a different Weasley dynamic and slightly different relationships has led to a butterfly effect that made for a very different first year at Hogwarts for Harry and friends. Now, second year is about to start, and will probably be different too...**

**Just as a warning: ****I've decided to rate this one T rather than the K+ from Weasley girl; partly because most of it will be from Ronnie's POV, and the girl likes to swear... and partly because the story will be a little darker. ****There will be at least one character death ****this time around****. **_***dramatic music!***_

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL: SECRETS OF THE PAST**

**Based on the **_**Harry Potter**_** books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE  
****The Rescue**

* * *

Just outside the village of Ottery St Catchpole, nestled in between rolling hills, trees and meadows - and so hidden that even the postman didn't know how to find it - stood a tall and crooked house. The few people who knew of its existence called it _'the Burrow.'_

The Burrow was like no other house in or around the village, or for that matter, any other house in England. It looked like it had been put together (in an extremely slapdash and illogical way) by spare rooms from other houses, by someone who had only the faintest idea of what a finished house should look like, and a casual observer might very well expect it to tumble down at the first strong breeze.

The fact that it _hadn't_ could be attributed to one very important factor: The Weasley family, who called the Burrow their home, were all wizards and witches, and knew how to magically make sure that the house with its many extensions didn't have to worry about pesky things like gravity or other physical laws in order to stay up.

Good thing too, because the Burrow was never what you'd call a serene and peaceful place. With a father who obsessed over Muggle contraptions, a mother whose voice could be heard for miles around, five teenage sons and two pre-teen daughters, the oldest of whom was always bringing home stray animals, there wasn't enough hours in the day for peace and quiet. Especially not when you added to the mix an attic ghoul, an impossible number of garden gnomes, several free-roaming chickens and of course all the useful if noisy things that tend to gather in a wizard home over the years.

Even when night had fallen and everyone were supposed to be asleep, you could never be quite sure that someone wasn't awake and plotting something.

Veronica and Ginevra Weasley, known to friends and family as simply _'Ronnie,'_ and _'Ginny,_' were lying in their beds in the room they shared on the first floor, fully dressed under their covers, and waiting for everyone else in the house to go to sleep.

Ginny shifted in her bed. "It's been ten minutes since Mum went upstairs," she whispered.

Ronnie glanced at the clock on the wall, right above the cage where Ginny's pet rat Scabbers was sleeping. The hand had moved from _BEDTIME_ to _LONG PAST BEDTIME, _and was slowly inching its way towards_ I MEAN IT, GIRLS, STOP TALKING AND GO TO SLEEP. _"Give her ten more minutes to be on the safe side," she said. "She always takes some time going to sleep when Dad's not home."

"She sometimes takes a long time going to sleep then Dad _is_ home too," said Ginny with a slight giggle. "You know, when they're -"

"Yes, I know, _thank_ you!" Ronnie felt herself go pink. She knew her parents hadn't got seven children by holding hands, and anyone with such a keen interest in animals would soon be robbed of any illusions they might have had about where babies came from, but in the case of her parents she was perfectly happy not knowing the details.

Ginny cheerfully stuck out her tongue, but Ronnie ignored her and instead turned around to look at the small pile of letters on her bedside table.

It was all the letters she'd got this Summer, and on the top of the pile were the ones she'd got from Hermione and Neville.

Partly to signal to Ginny that any discussion about their parents and their, er, _sleeping_ habits would be ignored, and partly to kill the ten minutes she had given herself, she picked one letter from the stack, rolled over on her back, folded it out and began reading. It wasn't too difficult making out Hermione's neat handwriting even in the relative darkness of the room:

_Dear Ronnie,_

_Thank you for your letter (and for the Chocolate Frog! I hid it from my parents because they don't like me eating sweets in the middle of the week, but as long as I brush my teeth afterwards there's no danger!)._

_I hope you're still enjoying your holiday. I'm simultaneously enjoying it and being extremely frustrated by it. I love being back home with my parents, and you wouldn't believe how much I appreciate all the small Muggle things that I took for granted before. (Television, Ronnie! You've probably never seen it, and honestly I've never been much of one for it before, but I had no idea how much I would miss not being able to catch up on certain programs! I'm going to show you one day!)_

_At the same time, I miss Hogwarts, and I miss being able to use magic. I know it's against the rules to use magic outside school and in front of Muggles, but sometimes I wish I could do just a little in front of Mum and Dad. Just so, I don't know, they'd be able to see what I was learning. I can of course share my written notes or the Summer essays, but it's not like in primary school, when I could show them my school work and get their help and opinions. Do you ever get your parents' help with schoolwork, or maybe your brothers'? _

_That was a stupid question. You haven't even started on any of the Summer assignments, have you? Don't try to lie; I know you haven't. _

_What I miss most of all, however is you - you and the boys. Mum and Dad are great, but I can't talk to them the way I can to you. Have you heard from either Harry or Neville? I haven't heard anything from Harry, but Neville sent me a letter. Poor boy, he's come down with a cold and his Gran barely lets him leave his room. I sent him a letter telling him about various Muggle home remedies for the common cold, but I don't know if they'll work for him._

_I'm really worried about Harry, though. He never seems to want to talk about it, but I don't think his Muggle relatives are treating him well. You'll let me know if you hear something, won't you?_

_Say hello to your family for me!_

_Love,  
__Hermione_

Ronnie read that paragraph about Harry again, and her stomach twisted a little. But ten minutes had not yet passed, so Ronnie grabbed another letter from the pile; this one written in Neville's slightly less tidy handwriting:

_Dear Ronnie,_

_Hope you're well? Hope you're better than me, at least, because I've caught the worst cold I've ever had. And I discovered another drawback to being immune to potions: Pepper-Up Potion doesn't work at all, so now I have a sore throat, a stuffy nose and about a hundred coughing fits an hour. _

_Gran barely lets me get out of bed, but she does at least allow me to write in bed. I've been writing to quite a few people, and at least one of them should be of interest to Harry. I won't tell you who it is in case Harry wants to say it himself; I've written to him about it, so he should know. _

_If he even got the letter. I don't know. He promised to write, but he hasn't. Maybe the Muggles he lives with don't let him have letters? He hardly ever talks about them, but they don't sound like very nice people. Or maybe he's sick too? I hope he's all right. _

_Now I realise I'm just talking about myself and Harry in this letter. I'm thinking a lot about you too, and Hermione, of course. I'm getting a little tired, though, so I think I'm going to end this letter now. I'll write more later._

_Your friend Neville._

Ronnie put the letter carefully down, once again reading the part about Harry and feeling her stomach twist a little more.

It was true that Harry never really went into detail about his Muggle life, but he hadn't exactly hidden that he didn't get along with his relatives. At first Ronnie had thought it was just the same kind of good-natured complaining that she herself indulged in when the subject of, say, Fred and George or Percy came up - but over the months, the comments and hints from Harry had added up.

What _had_ they sent him to, for an entire Summer, and completely unprotected at that? July had come and gone, and Ronnie must have written at least a dozen letters to him, but none of them had received any answers.

It would have been easy to blame the family owl, Errol, who was old and confused and didn't always deliver the letters to the people he was supposed to, but even he had to have managed to get at least a couple of Ronnie's letters through. Something else had to be the matter. Ronnie had taken to watch the sky for long periods of time, hoping to see the familiar white form of Hedwig, flying towards the Burrow with letters from Harry... but no Hedwig ever showed.

And then, two days ago, shortly after Ronnie had sent what had to be her thirteenth letter to Harry, Dad (who after all worked at the Ministry for Magic) had come home from work and informed to everyone's surprise that Harry had got an official warning from the Ministry for using magic in front of Muggles.

In and of itself, this wasn't such a huge deal; according to Dad almost all Muggle-borns and kids who lived among Muggles ended up getting at least one such warning during one of the Summer holidays - but combined with the absolute silence from Harry otherwise it was unnerving. So Ronnie had decided that enough was enough. With Hermione in the Muggle world and Neville sick and bed-ridden, it had to be up to her to act.

She sent letters to them both, informing them of the situation and that she was going to get Harry, and after that had allied herself with Ginny to make plans. They already had Harry's Muggle address: Number Four Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey. Neither Ginny nor Ronnie had been to Surrey before, but they _had_ been to London, several times, and Surrey was right next to London, wasn't it?

Ten minutes hadn't quite passed, but she didn't want to wait any longer. She threw her covers aside and sat up. She was dressed in a yellow tee-shirt and faded knee-length shorts; the perfect outfit to wear in bed when you have to get up without dressing. Placing her bare feet on the floor, she motioned for Ginny to get up as well. "Right," she said. "We're going. Get your socks and shoes."

Ginny lay still. Her face had gone red. "I'm not going," she murmured.

"The hell you're not!" said Ronnie, not managing to hide her surprise.

"Harry won't want me to come for him. He's - he's _Harry Potter_ and I'm just a silly girl who squeaks and hides when he looks at me." Ginny pulled her covers over her head, hiding herself.

"Bloody hell, Ginny, we've been over this!" Ronnie groaned in exasperation. Ginny was usually a good person to have by your side in various adventures and misadventures, but when it came to a certain Boy Who Lived, she could be so.. _silly_. "Harry's not that incredible hero from the bedtime story. He's - he's just _Harry!_ He's got messy hair and bad eyesight, he likes treacle tart, he named his owl after someone he read about in a book, he spent months thinking Quidditch was weird before he actually saw a game! He didn't know phoenixes are reborn from the ashes! He's got a dangerously good memory, but manages to be rubbish at History of Magic anyway -"

"But I _kissed_ him! He'll remember that, and he'll think I'm stupid, and I'll die, I'll _die!"_

_"Ginny."_ Ronnie fought to keep her voice calm. "Okay, he'll remember it, but he won't think you're stupid, and you _won't __die!" _(Oops, so much for a calm voice.)

"You don't know what it's like!" came Ginny's voice from underneath the covers. "You've never been in love, unless we count all those animals of yours!"

"You're right, I haven't," said Ronnie, pulling the covers off her sister and throwing them to the floor. "And if this is how it makes you act, I don't ever want to! But Harry's a friend, and -" She paused. The memory of being _Imperius_ed was lurking in the back of her head, but she repressed it. She didn't want to think about it. "I owe him a lot, all right? And if he's in trouble, I have to go and help him!"

Free of her covers, and dressed in her green tee-shirt and shorts, Ginny curled up into a little ball and hid her face.

"Fine, _don't _come then!" Ronnie sighed in exasperation - but then a thought struck her, and she had to suppress a smile. "I have to hand it to you, Ginny; I bet not many people can prove Professor Dumbledore wrong like you!"

Ginny uncovered her face and peeked up at her, confusion in her brown eyes. "What?"

"Well," said Ronnie, "after we'd faced You-Know-Who last Christmas, and Harry saved my life and all that, Dumbledore told me that love was the most powerful thing in the world. But you're living proof that love just makes you squeak and hide away when the guy you love needs your help."

Ginny sat up, the red color of her face darkening. "Shut up!"

"Well, do _you _call that power? Because I don't."

"Okay, _fine!"_ Ginny snapped, sprung to her feet and placing her hands on her hips while looking up at Ronnie. "I'll do it! I'll bloody well come with you! Happy now?"

Ronnie let out a sigh of relief; she really hadn't wanted to do this alone. "Yep."

Silent as two Augureys on a hot and dry day in Summer, the girls sneaked down the stairs to the kitchen, careful not to tread on the creakiest steps, and past the fireplace and the owl perch, where the family owl Errol was going quite against his otherwise nocturnal nature by sleeping soundly, completely worn out after so many trips to Surrey with letters for Harry. He didn't so much as stir as the girls tip-toed past him and carefully opened the door that led out into the front yard.

It wasn't the first time the Weasley sisters had sneaked out of bed after everyone else had gone to sleep, but this time it wasn't about borrowing their brothers' broomsticks or getting up to mischief; this was _serious_.

The August night was pleasantly cool, and the landscape was silent in a way it never got during the day. Ronnie took a deep breath, partly because she liked the feel of the night air but mostly because she was steeling herself for what was to come, and followed by Ginny she hurried over across the yard and towards the garage.

* * *

"We're almost there!" said Ronnie loudly.

In the passenger's seat, Ginny awoke with a start. "Huh? Er, oh. What time is it?" She looked a little embarrassed that she had fallen asleep.

"No idea. I think we've been in the air for about two hours or something." Ronnie decided not to comment on her sister falling asleep - the poor girl was only eleven, after all, and it was long past midnight - and instead concentrated on the landscape outside. Clouds were drifting past them, and below them, lights from buildings and street-lamps spread out; marking that this was Little Whinging, Surrey, the town where Harry lived.

Of course, _officially _speaking, Ronnie wasn't anywhere near old enough to drive, but then _officially _speaking the Weasley family car wasn't supposed to be able to fly either.

Dad had bought it used; a cheap, rusty wreck of a 1963 Ford Anglia that he'd spent ages tinkering with, taking apart and putting together again, trying to figure out how it worked and how to make it run again. He loved Muggle contraptions of all kinds, especially vehicles and things that ran on eckletricity, and had a sizable collection of them in the shed that did triple duty as garage, chicken coop and workshop.

He'd enchanted a fair few of them too, placed spells on them to give them new and strange abilities - like for example turning the car into Britain's only flying car.

Strictly speaking, this was against the law; the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects was very clear that charmed or enchanted Muggle artefacts were liable to fall into Muggle hands and as such risk exposing magic and wizardkind to Muggles. But Dad had exploited a loophole in the law; if wasn't directly illegal to enchant Muggle artefacts, or _own _enchanted Muggle artefacts, only to _use _enchanted Muggle artefacts. A pretty fine line, to be sure, but since Dad himself was the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, he wasn't in much danger of being prosecuted by them.

At least not if certain children kept a low profile when they borrowed the car, only flew at night, kept above the clouds for the most part and made sure to use the Invisibility Booster when they had to get close to the ground.

"Better get out the map, Ginny," said Ronnie as she steered the car a little lower. "Harry lives in the suburbs, a street called Privet Drive."

It took Ginny a little while to find where they were on the map, and where to fly in order to reach Privet Drive, but after a bit of wavering back and forth she managed to point out the direction.

The streets and houses underneath them were quiet and peaceful; a few houses had lights on but mostly they were dark, the only lights coming from street-lamps and the occasional Muggle car driving through the night. The Ford Anglia soared above them all, silent and undetected, as Ronnie followed Ginny's directions.

"Er, I think this is Magnolia Crescent... or possibly Magnolia Road," said Ginny, peering down at the rows of houses gliding past underneath. "That means Privet Drive is in _that_ direction... I think. Why d'you suppose they had to make all these houses and streets look so _identical?!"_ she sighed. "It's impossible to tell where we are when everything looks alike!"

"Cheaper to build 'em that way, I expect," said Ronnie, who as the sixth of seven children knew all about not having much money.

"But it's so _dull!_ I would have gone mad if I had to live in a place like this! Boring houses with boring gardens and yards, and boring cars parked outside..." Ginny cut herself off and gasped, staring out the window. "Ronnie, go back! Go back!"

"What? Did we pass it?"

"Yes, I think so - Ronnie, do Muggles usually have bars over their windows?"

"Er... not that I know. Why?"

"Because one house, and I think that was Number Four, has iron bars in front of one of their upstairs windows!"

_"What?"_ Ronnie spun the wheel around and brought the car back to the house in question - and true enough, in front of one upstairs windows, around the back yard, iron bars had been fitted. Solid, forbidding-looking iron bars. She felt her stomach sink as she maneuvered the car in so that she could look inside. Hoping that she was wrong, hoping that she wouldn't see what she knew she would see...

Inside, in a small and messy room, filled up with all sorts of Muggle contraptions, most of which looked broken beyond repair, a familiar white owl was peering back at her from its too-small cage... and beside, on an untidy bed, a black-haired boy was lying, fully dressed and in a fitful sleep.

"Hedwig," said Ronnie. "And Harry! This is why we haven't seen any letters! They've been locked up."

Ginny fought to get beside Ronnie and look as well, growing red with anger as she saw the fitfully sleeping Harry. "We have to get him out of there!" she demanded.

"Damn right we do! Here, hold me steady, I'll see if I can knock on the window, get his attention -" Ronnie grunted and strained as she pushed herself halfway out the window and (with Ginny clinging to her so she wouldn't fall) stretched out and managed to grab the bars in front of the window with one hand, leaving the other free to squeeze in between the bars and knock.

At first, it didn't seem like Harry had heard. But then Hedwig, who seemed to have understood what Ronnie was trying to do, turned her head towards the boy and screeched several times. With the third screech, Harry opened his eyes.

For a few seconds, it didn't look like he knew where he was. Then, he must have heard the knocking on the window, because he looked straight at her, and his green eyes widened in surprise. He reached out to grab his glasses from his bedside table, put them on and blinked several times, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Hi, Harry!" said Ronnie, trying to smile.

Five seconds later, he was up by the window, pushing it up so they could talk through the bars. "Ronnie," he said. "Ronnie, how did you -? _What the -?"_ He'd seen the flying car.

"Surprise!" said Ronnie. It was a silly thing to say, but it was the only thing that came to mind. She was starting to get tired, hanging halfway out the window too. "We're here to rescue you! _Ginny, if you let go now, I'll hex your arse into next week!" _she yelped when Ginny's hold on her loosened a bit.

"But what -" Harry still looked confused, but then grew concerned. "Ronnie, you're using magic!" He pointed to the flying car. "You can't - I've already got a warning from the Ministry for using magic in front of Muggles - they'll think it's me again -"

"We know about the warning," Ronnie grunted, trying to push herself back into the car. "Dad works for the Ministry, remember? Agh!" Helped by Ginny, she finally managed to get herself back into safety, and had to catch her breath before she continued: "Anyway, the car won't set off the Trace, we've used it lots of times in Muggle areas."

"The what?"

"The Trace!" said Ronnie, and was about to add_ 'you know'_ when she suddenly remembered that Harry had known nothing about the wizarding world when he grew up, and had had his first introduction to it by Hagrid, who may very well have forgotten to mention the Trace. "It's what they put on us to see if we do underage magic outside Hogwarts. Why'd you _do_ that, anyway? What's been happening? I've written to you about thirteen times, and Hermione and Neville have written to you, and Dad came home and told us you'd got an official warning from the Ministry -"

"It's a long story." Harry sighed. "Look, I can't get out, and they won't let me out. Can you can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won't let me come back? Maybe they can send someone."

"Bugger that!" said Ronnie. "We're getting you out of there, _now!"_

"But how? You can't use magic either!"

Ronnie had to think about it for a moment. This was one of the times when she wished Fred and George were here; they were clever and resourceful (and always had some joke items on them that probably wouldn't set off the Trace)...

"The rope," said Ginny suddenly. "We can tie one end to the car, and another end to the bars, and then pull them off!"

"That could actually work!" Ronnie beamed at her little sister. "You're a genius!"

It was the work of a few moments to find the rope, which was coiled up together under the passenger's seat (Dad insisted that all Muggles had rope in their cars in case the engine stopped running and they needed to be towed somewhere), and didn't take too long either to secure the rope to the car, and then toss one end to Harry and tell him to tie it around one of the bars.

"If the Dursleys wake up, I'm dead," Harry warned as he stepped back from the window.

"Not while I'm around," said Ronnie, who was starting to really hate these Dursleys. It seemed like everything she'd inferred from the small details Harry had given was true. "Stand back!" And with that, she stepped on the pedal. With a roar, the car shot up into the air, until a jolt and a crunching noise informed them that the bars had been yanked clean off the window by the sheer force.

Ronnie's heart pounded in her chest; so much noise, someone had to have heard it. But the seconds passed and Privet Drive was just as calm and peaceful as before.

"Right, Harry," she called softly. "I'll drive the car back to the window, and then you can get in."

"But my Hogwarts stuff - my wand, my trunk," said Harry. "They're locked up in the cupboard under the stairs."

"These Muggles of yours don't make it easy, do they," Ronnie sighed. "Hang on, then, I'm coming in."

Two minutes later, she had climbed in through the window, leaving Ginny in the driver's seat as the car hovered nicely outside. As soon as she set foot on Harry's floor, she threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug.

"Were you that worried about me?" said Harry, sounding oddly touched.

"Course I was, you arse!" Ronnie squeezed him a little tighter and then let go. "Looks like I was right to worry too! Have you been shut in here all Summer?"

"Nah, just the last three days," said Harry, as if this was nothing to mention. "There was a bit of trouble with a house-elf named Dobby - "

"What?" Ronnie couldn't believe her own ears.

"You don't know what a house-elf is?"

"I know what a house-elf is, but what was one doing in a Muggle house? They come with mansions and old wizard families, and - never mind," she cut herself off. "You can tell us all about it on the way. Hello, Hedwig!" she said, turning to the owl, which hooted joyfully in greeting. "First of all, let's get you out of that cage."

"It's locked," said Harry glumly. "Uncle Vernon has the key."

"Good thing that I don't need a key, then," said Ronnie, beginning to dig in the pockets of her shorts. She didn't usually have a whole lot in her pockets when wearing Muggle clothing, but... yes, there it was! She fished the hairpin out and held it up. "I've been picking locks since I was seven," she said proudly. "That's when Mum and Dad started locking the broom shed."

The lock to the birdcage was without question the easiest lock Ronnie had ever picked; a few strategic twists with the hairpin, and it clicked open. Probably whoever had made this lock hadn't bothered to make it very secure, figuring that a bird wouldn't be able to pick locks anyway.

Hedwig was out of the cage in no time, flapping her wings and landing on Ronnie's shoulder to gratefully nip her ear. It tickled more than it hurt, and Ronnie had to stifle a giggle.

"Thank goodness," said Harry. "She's been locked up all Summer. The Dursleys don't like owls, they've had enough of wizard mail after last year's avalanche of Hogwarts letters."

"So they kept her locked up in a tiny cage? Poor Hedwig!" Ronnie softly stroked Hedwig's feathers with a finger. "The sooner we get both of you out of here, the better."

"Can you pick the lock on the door too? And the cupboard?" Harry was starting to look excited.

"No problem!" Ronnie turned around, and Hedwig lifted up off her shoulder to land on the windowsill. "Start gathering all the stuff in this room that you might want to take, and I'll get right on it! Pick the lock, go downstairs, find the cupboard and pick that lock too! Easy as falling off a broomstick!"

"Okay, but watch out for the bottom stair. It creaks."

"Right," said Ronnie, though secretly she thought that if the noise of iron bars being ripped off a window hadn't woken the Dursleys, a little creaking probably wasn't going to do it.

* * *

But, though she felt she could rightfully pat herself on the back for dealing with unforeseen obstacles, Ronnie soon found herself facing another obstacle, one that upon further thought shouldn't have been so unforeseen: She couldn't lift Harry's trunk.

She could have kicked herself. Now that she thought about it, she remembered all too well how heavy the thing had been last year, when she had helped Harry get it onto the Hogwarts Express. That time it had taken the combined forces of herself, Harry, Fred and George to lift it the two steps up to the compartment. While Ronnie was pretty certain she was stronger now than she had been back then, the trunk was heavier too, and the staircase much longer.

Maybe if she got Harry and possibly Ginny's help - no, they wouldn't manage to get it up that long staircase, she was certain about that. Not without help, or magic. There was nothing for it; she'd have to unpack and carry the things and books up, a few items at a time. It'd take longer, but it was the only way.

She'd just picked the lock of Harry's trunk and lifted the lid, looking over all the various things and wondering which things she should get out first, when she heard footsteps silently coming down the stairs. Thinking it was Harry who came to see how she was getting on, she backed out of the cupboard... and found herself face-to-face with a boy she didn't know.

He was as tall as she was, maybe even a little taller, and about four times as wide, was wearing a blue-striped pyjamas, and had small piggish eyes that was currently wide open in total shock.

"Oh, bugger," said Ronnie. This had to be Harry's cousin - what was his name again? Had Harry even mentioned it?

"Who are you?" Harry's cousin demanded, taking a step back.

"Er," said Ronnie. The truth wouldn't do any good, she knew, but the only lie she could think of was: "I'm a house-elf, I'm here to do the washing-up, er, sorry, I thought this was the kitchen."

Harry's cousin narrowed his eyes. "You're one of those _freaks_, aren't you?" he said.

"Freaks?" Ronnie blinked in surprise. Of all the things she'd expected him to say, this was pretty low on the list.

"A _girly_ freak!" Harry's cousin seemed to have got over his initial fright; maybe he didn't find girls threatening, or maybe he had just realized that he was bigger than her. "What are you doing here? We don't like freaks in this house!"

"Self-loathers, are you?!" The words just fell out of Ronnie's mouth without bothering to stop by her brain.

They were standing only inches apart now, glaring at one another. Harry's cousin was clenching his fists and raising them, apparently trying to look menacing. "Don't think I'll be nice to you just 'cause you're a girl," he said.

"Bring it on," said Ronnie, clenching her fists as well.

And Harry's cousin did - but not in the way she'd expected. With an evil smile he straightened himself and yelled at the top of his voice:_ "DAD! MUM! HARRY'S GOT A GIRL IN THE HOUSE!"_

Harry appeared on the top of the stairs, a terrified expression on his face. "Dudley!" he cried (oh, so that was the cousin's name then), but this was all he had time to say before a loud and unintelligible exclamation interrupted everything.

A very fat man with a mustache and a skinny woman with a long neck appeared next to Harry, both wearing hastily-put-on dressing gowns and looking like they had just sprang out of bed.

"Uncle Vernon - Aunt Petunia -" Harry took a step back. "Look, this is just a -"

"What are you doing outside your room, boy? You're supposed to be locked up -" said the man, who was apparently 'Uncle Vernon,' and looked like he was about to grab Harry - but then he changed his mind and instead came charging down the stairs. "Dudley! Get away from her!" he yelled. "Don't you dare do anything to my son!"

Despite his vast bulk, he came at them so fast that both Dudley and Ronnie had to throw themselves aside to avoid a collision. Dudley stumbled into the cupboard, while Ronnie slid a few feet down the hallway, finding herself being towered over by the largest and angriest Muggle man she'd ever seen.

"Leave her alone!" Harry was speeding down the stairs as well. "She's my friend!"

_"Friend?!"_ Uncle Vernon staggered and turned purple. "I knew you were depraved, boy, but having a girl spend the night - under my roof!"

"It's not like that!" Harry began, but his protest fell on deaf ears.

"I don't know what sort of perversions you people get up to at that school of yours, but I won't have it in my house, you hear me?!"

"You - you people are barking mad!" said Ronnie, feeling herself turn pink again. These Muggles were worse than she'd imagined, and she was completely losing control of the situation. "We're_ twelve!"_

"Leave my sister alone!" It was Ginny, who had apparently heard the commotion and was now storming out of Harry's room with a furious expression on her face. She rushed past Aunt Petunia, shoving her as she leaped down the stairs to join Harry and Ronnie.

"Another one?!" Recovering her balance Aunt Petunia looked white. "How many girls do you _have_ in your room?" she snapped at Harry.

But nobody answered her, because now Ginny was running up to stand defiantly in between Harry and Uncle Vernon. She seemed even smaller than usual next to the enormous Muggle man, but she placed her hands on her hips and looked so fierce that he actually pulled back for a moment. "We're here to fetch Harry," she said. "And take him somewhere where he doesn't have to be locked up!"

There was a long pause as Harry, Weasley sisters and Dursleys regarded each other.

Finally, Uncle Vernon spoke again, and turned to Petunia. "These people send children out in the middle of the night to break into the homes of respectable, law-abiding citizens. This is the thanks we get for having looked after one of their freaks for more than ten years!"

"That's _Harry Potter_ you're talking about!" Ginny fumed. "Do you have any idea who he is - what he means to everyone in our world?!"

Uncle Vernon looked at her. The purple colour of his face was fading, and his voice was much calmer than before, but there was no warmth in it: "So why doesn't 'everyone in your world' take care of him? Why send him to _us?!_ When his parents went and got themselves blown up, the precious people of _your world_ didn't even contact us and ask if we wanted to take him! No, they just left him on the doorstep, with a message that we had to take him in! Had to, they said - not a thought as to whether we could afford him or had room for him!"

Ronnie's stomach twisted. She herself came from a large family with little money, but though Mum would occasionally sigh over lack of money, or lose her temper with her children, there'd never been any question that they were all wanted. Though she hadn't seen all of Number Four Privet Drive, but she would definitely classify it as 'posh.' She couldn't believe that the Dursleys had had too little room or too little money for two children, and hearing Vernon Dursley talk like this made her feel strangely queasy.

"There are many people who'd just have dumped him off in an orphanage and be rid of him!" Uncle Vernon continued. "But we of course had to be too kind-hearted for our own good! We took him in, and for ten years we've fed him, clothed him, made sure he had a roof over his head! And do we get any thanks? Do we get anything other than problems and freakish behaviour from him?!"

"I never asked to be put here either," said Harry.

_"YOU CAN SHUT YOUR UNGRATEFUL MOUTH!"_ Uncle Vernon suddenly roared, his face going purple again. "We let you traipse all the way to a freak school, and what's the result? Filling the house with - with girls just as freaky as you are!"

Dudley, who had remained halfway in the cupboard and watching the events unfold, piped up: "Bet he's starting a harem! Like that Sultan on TV! Soon the house'll be full of girls who walk around in their knickers -"

"What?! _Harem_? Why would you even say that?" Harry yelped at his cousin, though Dudley's smile told Ronnie better than words that he'd only said it to get Harry into more trouble.

And it looked like it worked too, because it looked like his parents completely believed him. Uncle Vernon began yelling, louder than before: _"SO THAT'S YOUR PLAN, IS IT, BOY?! CORRUPTING DUDLEY, DRAGGING HOME A BUNCH OF HALF-NAKED -!_" He stopped himself, and then grabbed both Ronnie and Ginny by the shoulders. "You two are_ leaving! Now!"_ he demanded, pushing them towards the entrance door. "And you can go straight to that Headmaster of yours and tell him that the boy is never coming back!"

And that was when Ronnie kicked him in the groin.

She hadn't actually planned on doing it. She'd often enough threaten to kick the balls of any male who angered her, but she had never actually done it to anyone before now - and hadn't been completely prepared for the reaction; the man's eyes bulged out and he made a half-choked sound that sounded like _"korrwumhphh"_ before he doubled over in pain and fell down.

Dudley and Aunt Petunia screamed and rushed towards him, momentarily taking their eyes off Harry and the Weasley sisters. Ronnie and Ginny seized the opportunity to scatter, with Ronnie rushing over to Harry, who was standing there in total shock.

"C'mon," she panted, grabbing his hand. "We're leaving! Ginny,_ run!"_

They stormed upstairs and into Harry's room, where Hedwig flapped her wings and screeched excitedly against them from the window. About twenty seconds later, Ginny came storming through the door as well, slamming it behind her. "Hurry up!" she panted. "They're coming!"

Ronnie didn't miss a beat. Racing over to the window, she saw to her relief that the Ford Anglia was still hovering just outside. "Get in the car!" she commanded. "Hedwig -"

"Let her fly beside us," said Harry. "She hasn't stretched her wings in ages! Er, you girls get in front, I'll get in the back!"

Hedwig hooted and nipped his finger affectionately, and seemed to agree with this plan before taking to her wings and flying out the window, where she perched on the roof of the car and waited for them.

The Weasley sisters had just got into their places, Ronnie behind the wheel and Ginny in the passenger's seat, and Harry was on the windowsill and about to climb into the car, when the door to the bedroom was torn open, and all three Dursleys stormed in.

_"STOP THERE! YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH THOSE HUSSIES!_" Uncle Vernon screamed, sounding like he'd completely lost his mind. Harry was halfway in the car already, but Uncle Vernon had jumped forth with a roar and - Ronnie saw in the side mirror - managed to grab Harry's leg.

Ginny shrieked - but then, like a white streak of lightning, Hedwig had attacked Uncle Vernon, flying straight at his face and making him let go of Harry.

"Effing - owl!" He tried to hit at her, but Hedwig was too fast for him, and sailed elegantly away and into the night while Harry scrambled all the way into the car, and Ronnie stepped on the gas so the car took off and flew away.

_"Come back!"_ they heard Uncle Vernon's voice grow fainter behind them as they sped up._ "I mean it, Potter! If you leave now, we're DONE with you! As long as I live, you'll never set foot in this house again!"_

"And good riddance," said Ronnie firmly, speeding up and flying higher, eager to put as much distance between them and Privet Drive as possible.

"I'm going to buy Hedwig a ton of owl treats." Harry sat up in the back seat - a little out of breath, but unhurt. "Of course, it helps that it was Uncle Vernon, she hates him... he was the one who made her sit in that cage all Summer..." Then, his green eyes filled with worry. "I think he meant what he said. I won't be able to go back there."

"Good!" said Ronnie. "I knew your family was horrible, Harry, but not that they were this bad. We'll manage somehow, you stay at Hogwarts for most of the year anyway - and in the Summer you can live with us; Mum and Dad already love you, I'm sure they'll say yes, you can have Bill's old room..."

"But my Hogwarts things." said Harry. "My wand and my Invisibility Cloak. Everything's still back with the Dursleys. I can probably replace most of it, but my wand... and the Invisibility Cloak..."

"Oh." Ronnie looked back at the vanishing Privet Drive. She didn't think it's do much good to turn around now; without magic there wasn't much they could do to retrieve Harry's things. Of course, Harry could get a new wand, and new Hogwarts things, he did have the money for it, but the Cloak was special. It had belonged to his father; just about the only keepsake Harry had after him. Nothing for it, then, they had to go back straight away, no way she was leaving it with those Muggles -

Ginny grinned triumphantly. And then, from wherever she had hidden it, she pulled out a familiar-looking bundle of silvery-gray cloth. It shone mysteriously in the moonlight as she wordlessly handed it to Harry - along with, another surprise; a long thin wand made of holly.

Harry's face lit up, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise and shock behind his glasses. "You - you got them! How -?"

"You clever little minx!" Ronnie exclaimed, feeling an immense sense of pride in her sister. "You grabbed them from Harry's trunk when we ran upstairs!"

Ginny nodded. "Only had time to grab those two things, but I thought they were the most important..." She slowly turned red as Harry stared at her.

"You're a _marvel!_" said Harry, and looked like he meant it, as he clutched his two most prized possessions.

This, however, was too much for Ginny. _"Squeak!_" she said, and curled up in her seat, hiding herself from him and blushing more fiercely than ever before.

Harry looked confused, but Ronnie just sighed. "Not again. And she's been doing so well too."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's Note:** And that's the start of _Weasley Girl: Secrets of the Past!_ There'll be adventure, excitement, maybe a little horror, and more deviations from canon!

This first chapter is actually one of the reasons for the switching of POV from Harry to Ronnie; I knew that Ronnie, like canon Ron, would get worried about Harry and stage a rescue, but that she'd ally herself with Ginny rather than Fred and George - and since Harry's Summer with the Dursleys would play out exactly like in canon, Dobby and all, it was much more interesting to look at the scene from Ronnie's viewpoint. Besides, it gave me the opportunity to write the Weasley sisters as a team.

Oh, and yes: Dudley's comment about a harem is a slight reference to all those Harry/Harem fics out there.


	2. Long And Serious Talks

**And heeeeere's Chapter Two! Thank you all for the reviews and faves so far, by the way; I appreciate it a lot! **

**There's been question in the reviews on whether or not I'll make Potter's Gang Animagi, but - I'm not even gonna try to be coy here - the answer is no. Given that you can't pick what animal to turn into, the practical use of becoming an Animagus is extremely limited. It's also so difficult and time-consuming to do (not to mention, unregistered Animagi are thrown into Azkaban if discovered) that you'd need a reason beyond just "it'd be cool to turn into an animal at will." Unlike for example the Marauders, Harry and friends simply don't have any such reason. After all, there are lots of other cool magics they can do which are both easier and more useful - and don't carry the risk of Azkaban.**

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL: SECRETS OF THE PAST**

**Based on the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

**CHAPTER ****TWO  
****Long And Serious Talks**

* * *

Ginny was silent the entire time on the journey back to Devon. Occasionally, Ronnie had to look over at her to see if she'd fallen asleep again, but she hadn't. She was leant back in her seat, but her eyes were open and she was following Harry and Ronnie's conversation intently. It seemed like Harry understood that she couldn't quite handle talking to him right now, silly at that was - at least he didn't try to engage her in conversation.

He had enough to talk about anyway. The mystery of the warning from the Ministry had an even more mysterious explanation; it wasn't Harry who'd performed magic in front of Muggles, but the house-elf he'd mentioned, Dobby.

Really, most of his Summer hadn't been _too _bad, he could tell Ronnie - poor Hedwig had been kept in her cage the entire time ("If I'd been a little smarter, I'd have asked you to take care of her during Summer," Harry said. "She already adores you, and she'd have been much happier being able to fly about."), but Harry himself had largely been left alone. As long as he did his chores, the Dursleys were happier when they didn't have to see him - and besides, they hadn't known he wasn't allowed to use magic outside school. For all they knew, he could turn them all into insects if they angered him too much.

But then, three days ago, on Harry's birthday no less, this Dobby had shown up out of the blue and talked about great dangers and how Harry absolutely mustn't return to Hogwarts this year because of some awful plot to make terrible things happen at the school. It had been impossible to get any details out of him, or who was doing the plotting, but he had at least admitted that he had stolen all of Harry's mail out of some warped hope that Harry wouldn't want to return to Hogwarts if he thought everyone there had forgotten him.

When that hadn't helped and Harry still hadn't agreed to stay away from Hogwarts, Dobby had used magic to throw a pudding at one of the Dursleys' dinner guests, and made it look like it was Harry who did it. And then the letter from the Improper Use of Magic office had arrived, and the Dursleys had understood that they weren't in danger of being transformed into something even more disgusting than they already were.

"And that's when they locked me in," Harry finished. "Uncle Vernon paid a man to fit the bars over my window, and said I was never going back to 'that freak school' and that if I used magic to escape I'd be expelled anyway. Not that I could have done much magic anyway, with my wand locked away."

"Nice birthday," said Ronnie, trying to hide how shocked she was. Why did these Dursleys hate Harry so much? Why did they hate magic so much? Magic was so great... okay, it could do awful things as well (don't think about the _Imperius!_), but to live without it, to shun it so completely...

"Definitely less exciting than my eleventh birthday," Harry agreed. "That was when Hagrid showed up, told me I was a wizard and took me to Diagon Alley. That year I got an entire world as a birthday present... this year I got iron bars and a batty house-elf. Are they usually like that?"

"Are who usually like what?"

"House-elves. Are they usually so..." (Harry seemed to search for a good word) "...scared?"

"Hell if I know," Ronnie admitted. "Poor wizard families like us don't have house-elves. I've never even _seen _one." But she pondered. "Far as I know, house-elves love taking care of humans. Seems like this Dobby thought he was looking out for you somehow."

"I hope he doesn't make a habit of it," said Harry dryly. "I don't think I'll survive that kind of caretaking for too long."

"So you didn't get a single one of my letters? Not Hermione's or Neville's either?"

"Not one. Dobby had them all, but when I wouldn't agree to not go back to Hogwarts, he never gave them to me." Harry looked thoughtfully out the window. "What sort of plot d'you think he was talking about? I asked him if Voldemort was behind it, but he said no. Actually, he looked very strange when he said that, as if he was trying to give me a hint of some sort... but I couldn't work out what that might be."

"Hmmm. Any ideas, Ginny?" said Ronnie. "C'mon, you're the brains in this car."

But Ginny just shook her head.

As they thought about it and tried to figure out, a faint pinkish glow started spreading around the Eastern horizon, signaling the arrival of the sunrise, and with it a new morning. The colours were so beautiful that for a long moment Ronnie just sat and stared at them. Usually she woke up long after the sun had risen, so this was a rare and breathtaking sight, made all the better for the fantastic view they had from up here.

"We should get up this early more often," she said, watching Hedwig swoop by the car window.

"I'll remind you of that the next time I try to wake you up in the morning," said Ginny, speaking for the first time since she'd given Harry his Cloak and wand. "We're almost home."

And true enough; there below them was the familiar village of Ottery St. Catchpole. Smaller and more rural than Little Whinging, maybe, but having seen them both from above Ronnie thought that Ottery St. Catchpole looked a lot friendlier and more approachable - Little Whinging, with its large square houses and similar-looking streets (be they ever so much cheaper to build) had just seemed, well, boring and disagreeable.

Of course, maybe it just seemed that way to her because her own town was a place she knew well. She'd often wandered the streets, alone or with Ginny, and watched all the Muggles who did so many strange things they weren't allowed to ask them about. Occasionally, they'd even meet one of the other wizarding families who lived in or around town (the Fawcetts or the Diggorys, mostly; hardly ever the Lovegoods, even though they lived the closest to the Burrow and had a girl around Ginny's age). Ronnie doubted that Little Whinging had any wizards or witches living there, apart from Harry.

And now it didn't even have him, she thought triumphantly as she brought the car down lower and the dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees came closer and closer. Her best friend having to suffer such horrible living conditions? Not on _her _watch!

Yes - all in all, she felt she could be satisfied with herself now. Her plan, the plan _she'd _thought up and put into works, had gone brilliantly. Despite a few minor unforeseen snags, like the Dursleys waking up and Harry not getting his school things, they'd managed everything. Her and Ginny. They'd freed Harry (and Hedwig), and managed perfectly well to drive the car all the way to Surrey and back in a few hours.

"Going in for landing," she said, just as the Burrow grew larger and larger in front of them. No smoke from any of the chimneys, great! That meant Mum wasn't awake yet, that gave them more time to think of a way to explain Harry's sudden appearance -

"Oh, bugger," she suddenly gasped, just as the car landed softly in the front yard, scattering chickens everywhere.

"What!?" Harry and Ginny looked at her with startled expression.

Ronnie pulled the car to a stop and pointed towards the front door. There was Mum, with a frown on her face. Right next to her was none other than Professor Dumbledore - and right next to him, looking like she didn't want to be there at all, was _Harry's Aunt Petunia._

* * *

"It is quite simple," said Professor Dumbledore, looking at them over his half-moon spectacles. "I had set up a simple alarm that would warn me when the protective wards around Privet Drive were in danger of breaking. The alarm has been silent for eleven years, but tonight it was set off."

"But we didn't break any wards," said Ronnie, not bothering to hide her confusion.

"Not intentionally, no," said Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, as I'm so often reminded, intent and outcome are rarely coincident. But it would be wrong to lay the entire blame on you. In my case, for example, I arrived too late - just after you had left, in fact. I met with a rather... hm... _confused _Dursley family who were screaming rather loudly about flying cars, harem girls and the general moral debauchery of wizards."

Ginny giggled, but was silenced by a look from Mum.

"Well, what were we supposed to think?" Aunt Petunia muttered. "Middle of the night - two girls in his bedroom, half-naked -"

"What are you insinuating about my daughters?" Mum snapped.

"We're not half-naked! Tee-shirts and shorts is not half-naked!" said Ronnie at the same time.

"And then, just after you'd vanished, this old crackpot shows up and begins asking questions!" Aunt Petunia went on, as if neither of them had spoken. "And hauls me off to this - this -_ place."_

"Ah yes," said Dumbledore. "There was little I could do to catch up with the car, but I surmised that you young ladies would indeed bring Harry here, so I decided to Apparate ahead with Petunia and wait for you so we could exchange stories and information."

They were gathered in the Weasley family kitchen for what had to be the earliest Weasley family conference ever held - and also the first one that also included Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. Dad, Bill and Charlie were absent, of course (Bill and Charlie being abroad and Dad still at work), but Percy was looking disapproving enough for three, an Fred and George were staring at their younger sisters half in awe and half with envy. Petunia Dursley was looking sullen and uncomfortable, which came as no surprise.

"I always knew you two were too wild for your own good," said Mum, looking at Ronnie and Ginny, "but _this? _Not even Fred and George would have done something this!"

"Wanna bet?" said Fred under his breath, but was ignored.

"Beds empty, car gone, not as much as a note! Do you have any idea how _worried _I was?! You could have _died_, you could have been _seen _-"

"We don't care!" Ginny exploded. "You don't know what that house was like!" She glared at Petunia as well.

"We were only doing what was best for the family," Petunia insisted. "That boy - that boy is completely out of control. He's even worse than his mother ever was."

"You locked him up!" said Ginny. "You _starved _him!"

"I had to protect my own son. Did any of you ever think about Dudders in this? Or about me and my husband? How do you think _we _felt, knowing that any time we could wake up as toads or have our beds transformed into hedgehogs? Just look at how he treated the poor Masons! We _had _to lock him up!" She looked at Dumbledore and Mum with terrified yet angry defiance. "But I don't suppose people like _you _ever consider the plight of _normal _people - and he didn't starve, he had three meals a day! We were _humane!"_

"You were bloody loonies," Ronnie muttered.

It looked like a real fight was about to start, but when Dumbledore cleared his throat everyone - even Aunt Petunia - instantly calmed down.

"Petunia," he said. "Do you remember when I left Harry with you, all those years ago? Do you remember my letter? I told you to how to contact me if there were problems. You never did. What, I wonder, happened that made you feel justified in locking your nephew up - but _not_ in contacting me?"

Aunt Petunia closed her mouth tightly.

"Could it perhaps be," said Dumbledore softly, "that you knew I would not approve of how you treated your nephew? How you seem to have treated him these last eleven years?" When he received no answer, the Headmaster went on: "I kept my distance, as you requested me to - after all, you were family and I was not. I had no authority over you, and while I did hear from certain acquaintances who have kept an eye on you from time to time that there was no love lost between you and your nephew -"

"You've been _spying _on us?" Aunt Petunia's eyes widened.

"Clearly I have not been spying on you closely enough," said Dumbledore, a little more firmly. "My acquaintances told me that while you were not treating Harry with the love and kindness he deserved, you didn't actually seem to be mistreating the boy. So to my eternal shame, I decided that the protection you offered him was more important, and I let the matter rest. But there were certain details you managed to keep hidden, wasn't it? Imagine my surprise when the enchanted quill addressed Harry's first Hogwarts letter to 'the cupboard under the stairs.'"

Aunt Petunia didn't answer.

"Of course, when the next few letters were all addressed to 'the smallest bedroom,' I thought that first one must have been a mistake," Dumbledore continued. "For some reason, the spell must have written the wrong address, and that was why Harry did not get his letter. I knew your family was comfortably well off and that your house was more than large enough for two boys; that you would make one of them sleep in a cupboard was laughable. And, in a way, it _is _laughable - I suspect there are a lot of Death Eaters who would get a good laugh if they ever found out."

"I -" Aunt Petunia began, and then closed her mouth.

"Your treatment of your nephew," said Dumbledore, in a tone colder than Ronnie had ever heard from him, "has been nothing short of appalling. Harry is not Lily, Petunia. Whatever quarrel you had with your sister, it is wrong to let an innocent child pay for it."

"Innocent!" Aunt Petunia found her voice again, though it had turned rather shrill. "Innocent?! If you only _knew _all the trouble he's caused over the years -"

"Which you, I might remind you, never contacted me about," Dumbledore interrupted. "I would have been happy to help, and I told you as much in my letter. You never responded."

"Because I knew what sort of 'help' you would have given him," Aunt Petunia snapped. "Vernon and I swore, when we took the boy in, that we would keep him away from all that - that _abnormality!"_

"Normality is such a relative term," said Dumbledore. "But Harry is perfectly normal for a young wizard - no, no, hear me out on this," he added when Aunt Petunia looked like she was about to say something. "_Harry is a wizard, Petunia._ There is nothing you can say or do to change that. Just as there was nothing you could say or do to change the fact that your sister was a witch - just as there was nothing I could say or do to change the fact that you are _not."_

Fred and George both let out a sharp "_Hah!"_

"Now it makes sense!" said George. _"Sour grapes!"_

"She wanted to be a witch," said Fred. "And when she wasn't, when she was only a Muggle -!"

"That's enough, you two!" said Mum sternly. "Mrs. Dursley can't help being a Muggle, any more than we can help _not _being Muggles!"

"She _can _help how she treated Harry," said Ronnie, whose loathing for Aunt Petunia had reached hitherto-unheard-of levels.

"You have no right to judge us," Aunt Petunia hissed. "I didn't come here to be insulted like this!"

"Correct," said Dumbledore. "You came here because you have something to tell Harry. I would do so _now_, if I were you."

For some reason, Aunt Petunia turned white. Then she slowly turned to look at Harry, who had been sitting there and looking uncomfortable about the entire situation. "Boy," she said, then cleared her throat and began again. "Harry. You can't - you can't come back to Privet Drive."

"Oh!" Harry's eyes widened. Most children would probably have been upset if they'd been told they could never come home again, but Harry looked as if Christmas had come early.

"It's because - it's because your Uncle Vernon threw you out."

"He didn't throw me out, I escaped," said Harry.

"But he said you were no longer welcome in our house. And I didn't contradict him, I didn't say you could come back." Aunt Petunia grimaced, but at Dumbledore's look she continued. "Apparently, when your mother died to save you, she left a protection of some kind - it was all in the letter I got with you, but I didn't read it that closely." (Even Ronnie could tell that this was a lie; the woman had clearly read the letter much more closely than she had wanted to admit.) "Something about blood and the strongest shields... anyway, he said that since we were Lily's only remaining blood relatives, as long as you were under my care, that Voldemort person and his followers wouldn't be able to touch you while you were under my roof."

Ronnie remembered that Mad-Eye Moody had mentioned the protections around Harry's Muggle home, but he hadn't mentioned what kind. That was _one _mystery solved!

"And he said they were likely to try and kill you, and you would be in great danger unless I took you in," said Aunt Petunia. "So what else could I do? Not that I ever got any thanks," she added, a little more sharply. "Eleven years, I had you, and you would probably have died if I hadn't taken you in, but were you the least bit grateful? Always in trouble, always talking back, always -"

Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

"The protection would have lasted until you were seventeen," Aunt Petunia hurried to say, looking at him nervously. "But when Vernon said you'd never be welcome in our house again, and you left, and I - and I didn't do anything to stop either of you, it seems the protection stopped working, because - because -"

"Because the _magic,"_ said Dumbledore, stressing the word and making Aunt Petunia wince, "interpreted this as you no longer being under your Aunt's care, Harry. And such protections, once revoked, can't be repaired or replaced. Privet Drive is no longer the safehaven it has been for you the last eleven years."

Ronnie felt herself almost shrink in her seat. That was what Dumbledore had meant with his comment about the protective wards breaking. _This was all her fault._ She'd put Harry in danger. If she hadn't gone to rescue him, if she at least hadn't kicked his Uncle in the groin -

But then she remembered the bars over the window, and the way the Dursleys had treated Harry, and the feeling of guilt diminished a little. _Safehaven, hah!_

"You knew that throwing the child out would put him in danger from You-Know-Who, and you _didn't stop it?!"_ Mum was looking at Aunt Petunia in disbelief.

"I'm not his parent!" Aunt Petunia snapped. "I didn't want him! Have you seen his eyes? Those are my sister's eyes! Every time he looks at me, _she _looks at me! Judging me! Mocking me! For eleven years! Of course I had to lock him away - I couldn't get rid of him, but I could stop him _looking _at me!" She had started to rant now. "And _you!_ All of you! Invading my life like that! I only wanted to be left alone with my husband and son! But you wouldn't let me, would you? You keep dragging me in, and I can see it in your eyes - in _his _eyes! In _Lily's_ eyes! So superior. so condescending! _Petunia the ugly Muggle!_ 'Muggle,' what a _word!_ You think I haven't been treating the boy well enough?! Well, he didn't deserve any better! Using his freak powers to make life hard for all of us! It was self-defence, that's what it was!"

This was when Percy, who had been silent the entire time, raised himself. "Thank you very much for your visit, Mrs. Dursley," he said calmly. "I think now is the time for you to leave."

Mum's face had gone just as red as Ginny's, but she didn't speak.

"Actually, I believe young Mister Weasley is right," said Dumbledore, raising himself. "It doesn't look like the current conversation is going anywhere productive. I will take Petunia back to her family - and I will also make certain to gather all of Harry's belongings. With the protection gone, and the home situation being how it is, there is no reason for him to return to Privet Drive. Molly, could I trouble you to look after him for a few days, until we can figure out what to do?"

"Of course, Dumbledore," said Mum, her face still red.

"I trust you won't object to this, Harry?" said Dumbledore.

Harry now looked as if not only Christmas but his next ten birthdays had come early.

Dumbledore nodded at him. "I will see you all later, then." he said cheerfully. "Do give Arthur my regards. Come, Petunia."

Petunia opened her mouth again, clearly about to launch into another tirade, but stopped at the look Dumbledore gave her.

"Petunia," he said, and now he was clearly getting impatient. "Whatever you were going to say, I beg you to instead to consider the excellent and highly appropriate alternative of _staying silent."_

"Er," said Ronnie, raising herself as well. Now that everything else seemed to be sorted out, there was only one thing she had to ask about. "Professor Dumbledore? Dad won't get in trouble - I mean, you won't tell anyone about the flying car, will you?"

Dumbledore looked at her. "What flying car would that be?" he said innocently.

"Thank you, sir," said Ronnie, feeling the relief wash over her.

When Dumbledore and Aunt Petunia had left, Mum took a deep breath and looked at all her children, one after another, and then at Harry - and then at Percy again. "Percy, that was marvellous of you." she said. "If that _woman _had remained here in my kitchen for much longer, I would have lost my temper._ 'Freak powers,' _I ask you."

"Typical Percy, always the spoilsport," said Fred. "I would have liked seeing Mum blow up at someone else for a change."

"As for _you two -"_ Mum turned to look at Ronnie and Ginny. "I ought to punish you for that stunt. Driving the car all the way to Surrey, and all on your own - I don't think you understand how incredibly lucky you were that it didn't end in tragedy! What were you thinking? Ronnie, you're only twelve -"

"I'll be thirteen in February," Ronnie muttered. "Besides, I was worried about Harry. Turned out I had good reason to be, didn't it?"

Mum looked at her sternly. "Don't try to make it sound like you're the only one who cares," she said. "Only yesterday, your father and I decided that if you hadn't heard anything from him by Friday, we'd take the car and go check on him ourselves."

"You did?!" said Ronnie, surprised.

Mum nodded."However, after meeting that Mrs. Dursley in person... I don't think I have the heart to punish you."

"Too bad you didn't meet her husband, then," said Ronnie. "You would have rewarded us."

"Don't you cheek me, young lady!" But Mum wasn't really angry - you always _knew _when she was angry for real - and she was all smiles again when she turned to Harry. "Welcome to our home, Harry dear," she said. "Of course you're welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. Bill's old room is empty, so when Dumbledore brings your things, we can move them up there, how does that sound?"

"Brilliant," said Harry, who looked both overwhelmed and grateful. "Thank you!"

"No need to thank me, dear. Come on, time for a spot of breakfast, I think."

And soon, the delicious scent of fried eggs and sausages filled the room, as Mum bustled about and prepared the food, throwing sausages into the frying pan, turning and retrieving them, flipping eggs and cutting bread for toast, working so fast that it looked like she had six arms.

Harry, who apparently wasn't used to seeing someone work like that in a kitchen, offered to help, but she declined and told him to just sit down. "I can manage perfectly, Harry dear."

"Mum's the Queen of the kitchen," said Fred with a laugh. "She doesn't want any commoners to disrupt her rule! Your Majesty," he continued with a bow, "would you grant your humble son a boon?"

"Quit it, you," said Mum, though Ronnie thought she could see a smile threatening to stead on her face. "What do you want, Fred?"

"Just wondering if we had any marmalade."

Breakfast was about half-over - Harry had only just accepted his second helping of eggs and sausage - when Dad came home.

"Dumbledore contacted me and explained what was going on," he said, sinking down on an available chair "I decided to postpone the last raid. Might as well give Mundungus Fletcher a few hours' sleep before I go after him." He yawned and stretched. "I think eight raids are my limit anyway. Not as young as I used to be - these nightly assignments are starting to take their toll. Besides... it seems I should rather have been up in Surrey, shouldn't I?"

"Er, Dad," said Ronnie. "About the car..."

Dad ruffled her hair and gave her a tired smile. "Yes, yes, it was very wrong of you, girls, very wrong indeed, but right now we have more important matters to discuss, so could we just pretend I've been very cross with you, and you've promised me never to do anything so dangerous again?"

* * *

Long and serious talks followed. Both Mum and Dad were more than happy to let Harry stay, but there were other things that needed to be discussed - and to Ronnie's frustration, none of the discussions involved her.

Professor Dumbledore returned after a few hours - without any Dursleys but with Harry's belongings, including his school things (Ginny did seem to think that this had made her fetching of Harry's wand and Invisibility Cloak somewhat pointless, but Ronnie pointed out that it had been a brave act that bode well for her future as a Gryffindor). He spent at least an hour talking to both Mum, Dad and Harry, and at the end it was decided that Harry would stay with the Weasleys at least for the remainder of the Summer, and they'd see what could be arranged for him for next year.

It was unfortunate that the protection set up by the blood wards had been broken, but there was nothing to be done about it. (And Harry confided to Ronnie later on that he was so happy about not having to return to the Dursleys that he couldn't find it in himself to really worry about the protection anyway.)

And so, without any more fuss, Harry moved in. He spent the first few days almost constantly smiling - at least it seemed that way to Ronnie. Life at the Burrow had to be quite a contrast from his prisoner's life at Privet Drive.

Hedwig was happy too; finally allowed to one more fly about as she wanted, she was more than willing to take on some of Errol's deliveries so the old owl could have a bit of a rest (because Percy still refused to let anyone borrow Hermes). She flew with letters for Hemione and Neville and brought back long replies from both of them.

Ronnie was glad to find that her entire family had taken to Harry just as easily as she herself had. Despite the unusual circumstances, and despite Ginny still getting shy and clumsy around him, they treated him with the warmth and kindness they extended to any other family guest - though Mum did perhaps fuss a little extra over him, encouraging him to have second and even third helpings at all mealtimes.

After the first day, though, Dad was uncharacteristically solemn. He was pleased to have Harry around, but strangely enough he _didn't_ bombard him with questions about Muggle life. To Ronnie's surprise, he didn't even ask Harry about what a rubber duck was supposed to be for. Despite clearly being tired, he continued to spend more time at work than before; he left home before anyone else had got up in the morning and didn't get back home before most of the family had gone to bed at night.

The explanation came after a couple of days, when the _Daily Prophet_ arrived at the breakfast table, sporting the following headlines:

_BOY WHO LIVED BEATEN AND STARVED BY MUGGLE RELATIVES_

_Harry Potter, known as the Boy Who Lived, has been living under unacceptable conditions, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. When Potter was (at the recommendation of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and alleged friend of the Potter family) sent to live with Muggle relatives at the age of one, many prominent wizards and witches questioned the wisdom of such a move. Many expressed doubts as to whether any Muggle would be capable of properly raising the hero of the wizarding world. Recent evidence, however, seems to incline that even these doubters were too optimistic: Potter has just recently been removed from the alleged care of the Muggles after it was revealed that he for ten years has been beaten, starved, locked up and forced to work like a slave. _

_Independent witnesses tell how the Muggles have treated Potter like a cross between a house-elf and a target for them to take their raw, primitive anger out on. Naturally, this treatment has left its mark on Potter, as his contemporaries have noticed after the boy's first year at Hogwarts._

_"He's hostile, quick to anger and always in trouble," says Potter's fellow student Draco Malfoy. "He has no idea how to behave among civilized people, but he's started a gang of troublemakers at Hogwarts, with at least one Muggle-born in it. They behave like animals, I'm sorry to tell you. They're even harassing the teachers so badly that one of the most beloved teachers was forced to resign."_

_Mr. Malfoy's father Lucius, chairman of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, expresses his concern: "This proves without a shadow of a doubt that Muggles are unfit to care for magical children. Potter should have been raised in a proper wizard family. I did in fact offer to take him in myself - maybe that would have in some way have made up for all the horrible things I was forced to do while under You-Know-Who's Imperius curse - but Headmaster Dumbledore seemed to think that the child would be better off with the Muggles. Of course I don't doubt that Dumbledore had the noblest of intentions, but it's plain to see that his inexplicable fondness for Muggles has seriously impaired his judgment." _

_Whether Potter's questionable behaviour will improve now that he is away from the dangerous influences of Muggles, remains to be seen, but he might be well advised to ask himself whether it is a coincidence that his rule-breaking gang at Hogwarts includes one Veronica Weasley, daughter of Arthur Weasley, a renowned campaigner for Muggle rights and the principal force behind the new proposed Muggle Protection Act. _

_"I wouldn't at all be surprised if her Muggle-loving father has told her to keep on Potter's good side," says a concerned student at Hogwarts. "They're probably afraid of what might happen to that precious Muggle Protection Act if Potter begins speaking against Muggles."_

_Arthur Weasley has not been available for comment on whether he is indeed guilty of such heartless manipulations of children in order to promote his political views, but with these revelations the Ministry surely must put both him and his Muggle Protection Act under closer examination. _

Everyone was silent as Dad read the article for them. Ronnie felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach.

"I suppose it was too much to hope for that they wouldn't print something like this," said Dad.

"Where did they _get _all that?" Harry finally said. "I wasn't beaten or starved! Well, not _much _anyway."

George, who was sitting closest to him, shook his head. "I just get fonder and fonder of those relatives of yours," he said.

Harry changed the subject, as he so often did whenever his life with the Muggles was discussed. "And we never harassed Snape, it was more the other way around! What's the point of writing all this?"

Dad sighed. "It's Rita Skeeter," he said. "I know her; the more people she can make look bad with her articles, the happier she is. Dumbledore had to inform the Ministry that you were no longer to live with your relatives, and no doubt Rita Skeeter has her informants at the Ministry." He placed the newspaper down on the table. "Bad news for the Muggle Protection Act, too. Look at how the article implies that all Muggles are monsters."

"The Malfoys helped there," said Ronnie. The feeling of having been punched was fading, but now she had to blink several times so she wouldn't start to cry with anger at the unfairness of it all. "What in the name of Merlin's pants possessed that Rita Skeeter woman to interview _them?_ Look at this - how Malfoy's Dad is all high-and-mighty! 'Horrible things I was forced to do under the _Imperius_,' my _arse!"_

"Language, young lady!" Mum scolded automatically.

"And this! Apparently Dad is _forcing _me to be friends with Harry!" She swallowed; an annoying lump was stuck in her throat. "Well, at least they didn't stoop so low as to suggest I was feeding him illegal love potions!"

"Don't give them any ideas," said Harry in a tired voice. "Bad enough that I'm living with you now. They don't seem to have picked that detail up, though..." He looked uncomfortable. "Look, I don't want to give you any trouble - _any _of you. If me living here leads to such rumours about the Weasleys, and problems with that Muggle Protection Act, maybe I should find somewhere else. I have money, I could -"

"Will you stop being so fucking noble?!" Ronnie snapped around the lump in her throat.

"Veronica Weasley, either you stop using that kind of language, or you leave the table," said Mum.

"Harry, you're twelve years old, you can't live on your own. What sort of people would we be if we threw you out just because of some silly rumours?" said Percy pompously.

"Percy's right," said Mum. "Besides, you're not a bother. We _want _you around! And there'll be rumours no matter what we do or say, so the best thing to do is just keep our heads high. We'll manage."

"As for the Muggle Protection Act," said Dad, "yes, a lot of people have told me they're withdrawing their support for it, but that's not your fault."

"And Bill's room has been so lonely since he went off to Africa," said George. "It'd be terribly upset if you just up and left it now."

"And we were going to teach you how to play Quidditch," said Fred. "With all we've heard about your great flying skills, we were hoping to get you on the Gryffindor team this year. Last year was _awful _- whoever told Cormac McLaggen he had talents as a Seeker was a big fat liar."

"Please stay," said Ginny, looking at Harry for a full second before adding _"Squeak,"_ turning red and knocking over her (thankfully empty) glass.

Harry looked at all the Weasleys, one after another, with an astonished look on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe that they would all tell him to stay like this. Small wonder too, Ronnie thought, regretting her harsh tone - the Dursleys had never wanted Harry, which of course was why he'd developed his infuriating tendency to think he was a bother to everyone.

There was really only one thing to do. Trying once again to swallow the lump in her throat, she turned in her seat and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "We don't care what the _Prophet _says," she said softly (and _almost _truthfully). "We care about _you_. Are you gonna believe that, or am I gonna have to smack you around a little first?"

Finally, Harry laughed, his body shaking a little against hers. "No, that's all right," he said. "I believe you."

Ronnie smiled and blinked away a tear that was threatening to fog up her vision. "About time."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's Note:** This isn't really a fix-fic; as you might see there are obstacles in this story that weren't in canon, or at least that didn't come into canon at this point. Now the famous blood wards are irrevocably broken, the Weasleys' name is being dragged through the mud, Muggle hate is likely to increase, and the Muggle Protection Act is a lot more likely to fail... we'll see how much of this will actually come into play, though. And on the plus side, Harry seems to have swapped one terrible family out for one kind and loving one.

My take on the Dursleys' abuse of Harry is thus: They weren't _hugely _abusive, largely because of their obsession with appearances. If their abuse of Harry was visible in any way (at least any way that couldn't be taken as "much-needed dicipline"), that would compromise their outward image as the successful, _normal _family they wish to be. So for the most part they neglect rather than directly abused him, keeping "punishments" and suchlike carefully hidden from the public eye. (Dudley is the exception, but he's a kid and would get away with more than his parents could.)

I never quite got all those fics where Dumbledore has a one-track mind and stubbornly insists on sending Harry back to the Dursleys even when better alternatives exist or they are clearly and visibly abusing him, all because of the "blood wards." Dumbledore's main concern at this point is to keep Harry alive, not to make sure that he's miserable (the theory that he kept Harry miserable because it would make him easier to manipulate doesn't hold up to closer thought at all). Since the protection is now gone, there is no reason for Harry to return to Privet Drive.

This doesn't necessarily mean we've seen the last of the Dursleys, though, even if they probably won't show up again _too _soon.


	3. Crookshanks

**I've had a few comments/reviews about shipping lately, but to be honest, romantic pairings are pretty low on my priority list when planning out this story. Yeah, I know, gender-flip stories are usually all about the romance (turning Harry into a girl so she can fall in love with Draco Malfoy, for instance), but **_**Weasley Girl**_** is not a romance story. **

**Our heroes' love lives might get a little more prominent when the kids begin entering their teens, and hormones begin acting up... and there'll probably be a few schoolgirl crushes this year, but nothing too serious just yet. Besides, any romance that may or may not happen will be strictly secondary to the plot.**

**That said, I **_**have **_**started a shipping poll on my profile, where you can vote for your favorite pairings, plus a few pairings I just tossed in as a joke (multiple choices allowed). I can't promise that the poll results will affect the story in any way; this is just for fun, and because I got curious what my readers thought.**

* * *

**WEASLEY GIRL: SECRETS OF THE PAST**

**Based on the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

**CHAPTER T****HREE  
****Crookshanks**

* * *

Over the course of the next two weeks, the Burrow got more letters and callers than it had seen for decades, and all of them were for or about Harry.

Some of the letters were from friends; Hermione and Neville had both written to express their relief that Harry was all right; and there were letters from several people they knew from Hogwarts - even Hagrid, the gamekeeper, had sent a letter, telling them that he was glad Harry was with people he could trust instead of those "ruddy Muggles."

Most of the letters, however, were from strangers or just vague acquaintances, because it didn't take long at all before the general public managed to discover that Harry was now living with the Weasleys. Some people showed up in person to try to talk to Harry, but Mum sent them away with a "leave the boy alone!" That left the letters, and they ranged from sympathetic and concerned, to threatening and insulting. Quite a few letters demanded the names of the Muggles that had mistreated Harry, along with detailed lists of what the letter-writers were going to do to them.

"I don't think half the things on this list are physically possible, even with magic," said Fred as he scanned the letter of one particularly imaginative and vicious wizard. "Listen to this: _When I find out who those Muggles are, I will shove their heads so far up their -"_

"We can read, thank you!" Percy snapped, grabbing a different letter. "Not that all these people make it easy. This is the most atrocious handwriting I've seen! It's enough to make me wish Hogwarts taught proper penmanship."

"You always know how to focus on what's important, don't you, Perce?" said George. "Hey, Ron, this one's for you."

"Read it, will you?" said Ronnie wearily. This was the second time in her life she'd had her name in the paper - the first time had been during the war, when some _Prophet_ employee had been desperate for news not about You-Know-Who and found the birth of the first Weasley girl for centuries worthy of a small notice. That had been a source of pride, something fun to think back on; completely unlike this.

_"Stay away from Harry Potter, you Muggle-loving tramp, he's __**mine**__."_ George read. "It's not even signed. I think you're supposed to automatically know who you're meant to hand Harry over to."

"Ginny, did you write it?" said Fred. Ginny threw a fork at him, and then got very busy stroking Scabbers, whom she had for once brought out of his cage and taken downstairs (not that this seemed to matter much to the rat, who spent almost all his time sleeping).

Harry, who was sitting next to Ronnie behind an extra-large pile of letters, looked miserable. While he had, thankfully, never offered to leave the Burrow after that first article in the _Daily Prophet,_ it seemed to Ronnie like he felt that the torrent of letters was his fault.

He picked up one letter from the pile, the same one he had picked up and put down again at least three times now. It was from Rita Skeeter, the very same witch who had written the article in the first place. "Maybe I _should _agree to give her an interview," he said.

"What for?" said Ronnie, who to her annoyance knew she had turned pink again. "She's the reason why we're getting all this hate mail, I don't think she deserves an interview with you."

"But I could at least explain that she's misunderstood," said Harry hopefully.

"And have her write that we've brainwashed you into saying what we want? No thanks!"

"Hey, this one's from old Xenophilius Lovegood!" said George, looking at the new letter he'd picked up.

"He's our closest wizard neighbour," Fred added for Harry's benefit. "Completely batty."

"Let's see what he writes," said George. "Hmm... _I want to let you all know that I don't believe any of the hostile rumours about Arthur or any of the Weasleys for one second. Your family, as well as the Muggle Protection Act, can count on my continued full support, both personally and professionally."_

"Always liked old Xeno," said Fred hurriedly. "A little eccentric, but a good chap."

"What does he mean, personally and professionally?" said Harry.

"Oh, er, he's the editor of a magazine called _The Quibbler,"_ said Ronnie. "Mum won't allow it in the house. Says it's full of nonsense."

"I used to think that was her way of saying it was full of pictures of naked ladies, and that was why she didn't want us to read it," Fred smirked. "I was really disappointed when Lee Jordan managed to scrounge an issue. No naked ladies, just a lot of literal nonsense. Weird conspiracies and sightings of monsters nobody's ever heard of and hens laying the same egg three times in hurricanes and things like that."

"Of course, that's half the fun of it," said George. "Wouldn't mind reading some more. Think Mum'll lift the ban on the mag when she finds out that Xeno's supporting Dad?"

"No offence to Mr. Lovegood, but when it comes to support, I _do _think Dad could do better than him," Percy huffed.

"Your father and I are certainly grateful for any support we can get," said Mum, who just then was entering the kitchen, carrying everyone's coats. "But right now, we have more important things to think of than some silly letters. Today we're going to Diagon Alley, and we're going to forget all this nonsense for a while. Come on, get your coats on and save the rest of the letters for later."

"It's August, Mum," said Ginny. "It's still warm outside. Why do we need coats? We'll die of heat."

"Don't be silly, dear. Besides, you'll need the pockets. Put it on, now."

Ronnie silently agreed with Ginny about the coats, but she knew there was no arguing with Mum when it came to this, so she put hers on without protest. (It was getting a little small for her, she noticed, but didn't want to start asking for anything new - the school supplies they had to pick up would already cost more than they could really afford, especially since the Defence against the Dark Arts books were all by Gilderoy Lockhart this year, and Gilderoy Lockhart books were _expensive_.)

As everyone gathered in front of the fireplace, with Dad finally joining them, Ginny took Scabbers up off the table.

"You're not taking Scabbers to Diagon Alley?" said Ronnie, a little surprised.

"Yes, I am," said Ginny, in her best _'I've-decided-and-you-can't-change-my-mind'_ voice. "He never sees anything but our room, I thought he'd enjoy a change of scenery."

"Ginny, scenery doesn't really matter to a rat who never wakes up," said Ronnie.

Ginny looked at her. "D'you know what you are?" she said.

"A Muggle-loving tramp, according to some," said Ronnie dryly.

"You're _jealous!_ Because Scabbers likes me better than you!" said Ginny. "You're so used to all animals in the world loving you that when one of them likes _me _better, you don't know what to do other than making comments like that!"

Fred and George, both in their coats by now, began laughing. "She's got you there, Ron!" said Fred, completely ignoring that he himself had made similar jokes about Scabbers in the past.

"Bollocks," said Ronnie - but Fred's hypocrisy aside, she did feel slightly guilty. In truth, she _had _always felt a little put off by Scabbers's complete lack of interest in her. Almost every other animal she met instantly adored her and wanted to be friends - sometimes it was even a little too much (especially when invisible Thestrals and three-headed dogs declared love at first sight), but on the rare occasions when she met an animal that _didn't _like her... it made her feel strange inside, as if she was failing or something. It was why she had declined when Percy had first wanted to give her Scabbers and passed him on to Ginny instead.

"Well, I'm taking Scabbers and showing him Diagon Alley," said Ginny, carefully sliding the rat down into her coat pocket.

"Now, come along, all! We've got a lot of school supplies to buy, and we're supposed to meet the Grangers as well!" said Dad, looking rather excited at this thought.

"Arthur, _do _try to keep your questions about Muggle life to a minimum when we meet them," said Mum. "And Fred, George - behave yourself!"

The twins gave her exaggeratedly hurt looks. "But Mum," said Fred. "How can you even suggest that we won't behave like perfect angels?"

Mum gave him a look, and then turned to Ronnie. "As for you, young lady, I don't want a repeat of last year, is that understood?"

Ronnie felt herself go pink. "I wasn't at the _Magical Menagerie_ for _that _long," she murmured.

"You were in there for three hours! I had to drag you out of there in the end!"

Ronnie sighed. The _Magical Menagerie, _located at the North side of Diagon Alley, was in her opinion the best shop in the entire world. It was small and cramped and noisy, but had so many wonderful animals that she would gladly have spent days in there on end to get to know them all - and the witch who usually looked after the shop was a niece of the famous magizoologist Newt Scamander and knew all sorts of fascinating things about animals.

When Ronnie was younger she'd always gone there (never to buy, but only to meet the new animals) together with Charlie, who was a little better at keeping time, but last year was the first time she'd been there alone, hence the perfectly understandable miscalculation of time.

"Just one very short visit?" she pleaded. "Harry has to get owl treats for Hedwig anyway, and I promised him I'd show him the shop."

In truth, she hadn't promised him anything of the kind - the _Magical Menagerie_ was pretty easy to find and even easier to find your way around in - but Harry seemed to have picked up how much she wanted to go, and so he just nodded. "It's true, Mrs. Weasley, she did promise."

Mum looked at them both, and then gave in. "Oh, all right," she said. "But only a very short visit. If I have to come drag you out of there -"

"You won't, Mum!"

Mum double-checked that everyone was in their coats and then walked over to the fireplace to pick up the flowerpot where they kept the Floo powder. "We're running a bit low, Arthur," she sighed after having peered inside. "We'll have to buy more today... ah well, guests first. After you, Harry dear."

Harry looked at the flowerpot with a puzzled expression on his face, as if she had told him to solve some particularly difficult puzzle, and Ronnie finally understood what the problem was; _he had no idea what was going on._

"It's Floo powder, Harry," she hurried to say. "It's how we usually get to Diagon Alley. Sorry, I didn't realise you wouldn't have travelled by Floo before."

"Er, no," said Harry. He'd lived with them for slightly more than two weeks now, and while (despite what the Daily Prophet and Draco Malfoy claimed) he had adjusted to wizard life quite well in the year he'd known about magic, there would be the occasional moment like this, when he encountered something completely ordinary and treated it as something completely new and unfamiliar. "I - sort of thought we were taking the car," he admitted.

"Oh, Floo powder's much quicker, dear," said Mum, who with the possible exception of Percy was probably the family member who liked Dad's car the least. "But goodness me, if you've never used it before -"

"He'll be fine, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first!" Never one to resist making a performance, he took a pinch of the Floo powder and walked with rather theatrical strides up to the fireplace, throwing the powder into the fire. As it turned green and rose high, he stepped into it and shouted: _"Diagon Alley!" _And then he was gone.

"Nothing to it, Harry," said George. "Now watch me!"

But he didn't get the undivided attention that Fred had as he too helped himself to Floo powder, because now everyone else (even Ginny and Percy) was gathering around Harry with helpful advice.

"You must speak clearly, dear, and sure to get out at the right grate... there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly -"

"And keep your elbows tucked in."

"And your eyes shut. The soot -"

"Don't fidget, or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace -"

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

"If you get nervous, Ginny can hold your hand."

"Shut up, George!"

Harry looked rather overwhelmed at all this, but as soon as George had stepped into the fire and vanished, he took a pinch of Floo powder and stepped up to the fireplace with the definite expression of someone who is trying to hide his nervousness.

He managed the throwing part nicely, and barely hesitated at all to step into the green fire - in fact, he was doing marvellously right up to the part where he was to speak the name of his destination. That was when he managed to inhale a bit of hot ash and was struck by a coughing fit. He just had time to croak out something that sounded like _"D-Dia-gon-all-ly,"_ before vanishing.

The kitchen fell silent. Mum and Dad looked at one another.

"Did he say _Diagon Alley,_ or _Diagonally?_" said Mum.

"It sounded like _'Diagonally,'_" said Percy.

"That's what I thought," said Mum. "Oh dear, what if he misses the grate? He could end up anywhere!"

Ronny took two seconds making up her mind, grabbing a pinch of Floo powder and throwing it into the fire. "I'll follow him!" she stated, jumping into the green flames. _"Diagonally!"_

"Veronica Weasley, you come back here right this -" Mum's voice drowned in the loud roar of the fire as Ronnie spun down the darkened passway that was the Floo network, the green flames whipping around her and the blurred stream of fireplaces whooshing past. As always, the Floo ride was a fast, loud, dizzying experience, and Ronnie just barely had the time to reflect that maybe she shouldn't have jumped in like this without being absolutely certain that she'd end up in the same place as Harry -

- and then she came to a halt, stumbling out of a fireplace and landing flat on her stomach.

A cacophony of noises exploded around her, noises so diverse and so familiar that even before she lifted her head, she knew exactly where she had ended up - and a quick look up confirmed it: Around the tiny fireplace she'd just tumbled out of, cages of all shapes and sizes were covering every inch of wall, and inside almost every cage one or more animals were watching her and making an excited racket. Owls were hooting, cats meowing, toads chirping and croaking, ravens cawing, snakes hissing, mice and rats squeaking, and a Jarvey that peered out from a cage near the floor was crying: _"Have a nice trip, Beanpole?!"_

She'd ended up at the _Magical Menagerie_. But, she noted as she sat up, there was no sign of Harry.

"What's going on here - why, that's never Ronnie Weasley, is it?" The voice belonged to Miss Scamander, the witch from the counter, who had heard the commotion and came running to help Ronnie back onto her feet. "I've been wondering when you'd show up to visit the animals! Charlie still in Romania, is he?"

"Yes - thanks," Ronnie managed to say as she was back on her feet.

"You know, the Floo isn't really for customers. Next time you want to pay a visit, use the door. That's why we have it." Miss Scamander grinned and let go of Ronnie's hand.

"I didn't mean to - Look, you haven't seen - _Oi!"_ Ronnie cut herself off with a startled yelp as something big, orange and soft came leaping down from one of the cages on the top shelf and landed on her head.

Before she really knew what had happened, she found herself with an armful of cat - a large, ginger tomcat with thick, fluffy fur, a bottle-brush tail, and a flat face that gave him a strange grumpy appearance, as if he had once ran headfirst into a wall and never stopped being annoyed over the incident.

"Oh, not _again,"_ Miss Scamander sighed. "Crookshanks, why can't you ever stay in your cage?"

"Jailbreak!" the Jarvey called from its cage. "Shoot the bastard!" (Jarveys were capable of speech, but mainly spoke in crude insults, so having a meaningful conversation with one was completely out of the question.)

The cat, whose name was apparently Crookshanks, turned his head to look at her, and Ronnie got the distinct impression that he found the question amusing.

"I don't know how he does it," said Miss Scamander with a shake of her head. "It seems like no cage can hold him if he doesn't want it to, no matter how many charms we put on it. Oh well - since he's already set on introducing himself: Crookshanks, this is Ronnie. Ronnie, this is Crookshanks."

"Wow," said Ronnie. She could tell that the cat wasn't very old - probably less than a year - but he was already bigger than most normal cats she'd met. "Hello, Crookshanks." She began stroking him, and he immediately began purring up a storm and rubbing his head against her.

"Well, that's love at first sight," said Miss Scamander.

"Perverts!" the Jarvey shouted happily.

"The poor dear's been here for a fortnight," said Miss Scamander, ignoring it, "and hasn't taken to anyone like that before. He's not very attractive either, so nobody has wanted him. You wouldn't be interested -" she said hopefully.

"Can't afford him," Ronnie sighed. She could feel herself starting to fall for the strange, grumpy-looking cat, but her family was already strapped for money; she'd never be allowed to buy a new pet now. "Miss Scamander, you haven't seen Harry Potter around here, have you?"

"Harry Potter?" Miss Scamander shook her head again. "I'm absolutely certain I would have noticed it if _he'd _came tumbling out of the fire. Have you lost him? I read about you in the _Daily Prophet_ - oh, relax, girl, I didn't believe that rubbish!"

"You're in the minority, then," said Ronnie, scratching Crookshanks behind the ears. "I'd love to stay for a visit, but I have to find Harry."

"You couldn't find your arse with both hands!" the Jarvey commented.

"Shut up, you, or you get another Silencing charm!" said Miss Scamander. "As for _that _one, she was anonymously donated to the shop a few months ago, and has been insulting customers ever since."

"Customers stink!" said the Jarvey. Several of the other animals turned their heads to look at it from their cages, and Ronnie had the distinct feeling that they were glaring at it.

Miss Scamander placed a hand on her forehead and took a very deep breath. Then, she turned back to Ronnie and said calmly: "Well, if Harry Potter was off with the Floo, he's bound to be nearby. Likely he just stepped out of the wrong grate, like you did."

"Hope you're right." Ronnie handed the reluctant Crookshanks over to Miss Scamander. "I'll see you later, I hope - was planning on taking Harry her to buy treats for his owl."

"Good luck, then," said Miss Scamander, taking Crookshanks and holding him firmly when he tried to jump out of her arms.

"Thanks. Bye, Crookshanks!" Ronnie tore her eyes away from the cat and hurried out the door.

"Glad to see the back of you, freckle-face!" she heard the Jarvey say before closing the door behind her and stepping out on the street.

Diagon Alley was especially crowded today, she realised with a sinking heart. Witches and wizards of all ages and sizes were scurrying about, exiting and entering the many shops that cluttered the street. Even at the best of times, the twisting and turning Diagon Alley could be difficult to get a proper overview of, but right now when it seemed like everyone had decided to do their Hogwarts shopping at the same time, how would she ever find Harry?

As she stepped out into the crowded street, trying to figure out where to go and how to see Harry, she heard a commotion from behind her.

Ronnie turned around to see Crookshanks, running up towards her at great speed, while Miss Scamander stood in the door, desperately trying to call him back. She had out her wand, and had apparently been trying to use magic to stop the cat's escape (probably a harmless Stupefying Charm), but not been fast enough.

"You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn!" came the Jarvey's voice from inside, over the new cacophony of animal sounds that had broken out.

Miss Scamander lifted her wand again, and then seemed to draw the same conclusion that Ronnie had: In this crowd it would be impossible for her to hit Crookshanks with any sort of spell, and _not _hit one or more innocent bystanders.

_"Crookshanks!"_ she called, but to no avail; the only thing that happened was that a number of witches and wizards turned towards her to see what was going on, and Crookshanks moved into the crowd.

It took Ronnie about half a second to make up her mind. "I'll get him, Miss Scamander!" she yelled, and ducked into the crowd to follow the cat.

It was harder for her than it was for him; he was small enough to slink around people's legs (and somehow always avoided being stepped on), while she kept bumping into people and had to apologise again and again, wishing that she knew how to do a Summoning charm - no, wait, that didn't work on living creatures, did it?

Strangely enough, while Crookshanks could easily have sped up enough to completely slip away from her, but he stayed within sight - just out of reach. Even when a helpful wizard tried catching him, he deftly avoided the hands but stopped to turn back and look at Ronnie.

"All right, all right, I get it," Ronnie finally said as they made their way to a less crowded side-street, leaving the befuddled helpful wizard behind. "You want me to follow you!"

Crookshanks flicked his bottle-brush tail and then bolted down past an apothecary and down the alleyway, which wasn't crowded at all - in fact, it seemed to be almost empty, the few witches and wizards there looking definitely, well, dodgy. Not to say _creepy_. Which certainly fit the surroundings; this side-street seemed to be filled with shops dedicated, in one way or another, to the Dark Arts. All the shop windows had cheerful little displays of shrunken heads, poisoned candles, huge black spiders and ancient artefacts that looked like they'd been made solely for the purpose of looking evil and nasty.

He stopped in the middle of the street, and once again turned to look back at Ronnie, as if to say: _Aren't you coming?_

Ronnie suppressed a groan. This cat was _bonkers _- he was running straight into Knockturn Alley, the most infamous street in the British wizarding world, and _expecting her to follow._ Rumor had it that at least one beastly murder took place here every week, and even if that wasn't true the shops were bursting with so many cursed items and dangerous magics that it was said nobody could be certain to leave Knockturn Alley in the same shape that they'd entered it.

Mum had expressively forbidden Ronnie to ever set foot in that street.

Then again... she'd met You-Know-Who. She'd been _Imperiused _(no, don't think about the _Imperius!_) and she'd survived. What could Knockturn Alley hold that was worse? Besides, was she a Gryffindor or wasn't she?

"Crookshanks!" she said, marching up into Knockturn Alley, trying to look like she wasn't afraid at all (and wishing she'd had Harry's Invisibility Cloak). "You come here right now - stop that!" she added, because now Crookshanks was moving again, running down the twisting, turning alleyway until he stopped by the largest, gloomiest-looking shop of them all.

Ronnie followed as best as she could, but had to stop on the way as, all of a sudden a shabby-looking wizard stepped out of the shadows and stood in front of her. He wasn't that much taller than her, but she still took an involuntary step backwards; his hair was matted and greasy, his face unshaven, and as his lips split in a creepy grin, he bared a set of distinctly yellow teeth.

"Hello there," he said in a raspy voice. "What's a sweet little girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"Looking for someone to kick in the balls!" said Ronnie, straightening herself and putting on her fiercest expression. "Volunteering, are you?"

He frowned, his grin turning into a sneer. "Fiery head and fiery temper," he snarled. "You should show some respect for your elders - _ow!"_

The sudden "ow" came from the fact that Crookshanks, having doubled back from the shop, had pounced on his leg and sank his claws into the man's ankle. He swore and kicked out, but Crookshanks jumped aside, his bottle-brush tail fluffing out so much it seemed three times thicker. He arched his back and hissed at the man warningly, trying to get between him and Ronnie.

"Damn cat!" He suddenly had a wand in his hand, pointing it at Crookshanks.

"Leave him alone!" Ronnie acted on pure instinct; she lunged at the man and kicked. He clearly hadn't been expecting this, and so - just like Uncle Vernon a few weeks ago - his eyes bulged as her foot made painful contact with his groin. He dropped his wand and sank to his knees, clearly trying to breathe.

A shrieking, cackling laughter sounded from the other side of the street. An aged witch, holding a tray with contents Ronnie didn't particularly care to speculate about, was watching the scene and loudly expressing her glee at the sight. "Good show, dearie! Good show!" she cackled.

Ronnie decided to ignore her and instead scooped Crookshanks up in her arms. "All right," she told him. "I appreciate that you wanted to protect me, but I wouldn't have needed it if you hadn't taken me here in the first place! Now, let's get out of here!"

Crookshanks bapped her on the nose with a soft paw. Then he looked pointedly at the shop they were standing outside.

The dirty sign above the window helpfully (or perhaps warningly) informed that this was _Borgin and Burkes,_ and through the window Ronnie could see that it was full of creepy-looking things; a blood-stained pack of cards, a staring glass eye, evil-looking masks on the walls, rusty iron instruments with sharp spikes hanging from the ceiling, and what looked suspiciously like a pile of human bones on the counter, behind which a stooping, oily-looking wizard was bowing and scraping for a tall man with blonde hair, who was just turning to walk out, and -

Ronnie blinked. The boy next to the man, with the same pale complexion and blonde hair, happened to be someone she knew and loathed.

She looked about to see if there were any places to hide, but it was too late; the boy had spotted her, and the next moment the door opened and he exited the shop to step up towards her.

"Weasley," he said, in a voice that revealed that he loathed her just as much as she loathed him.

"Malfoy," Ronnie answered through gritted teeth.

"What are _you _doing, skulking around here?" said Draco Malfoy. His eyes fell on Crookshanks. "And who's this, your sister? I can see why everyone says she's the looker of the family. She's much less hairy than you, that's for certain."

Crookshanks glared at him and made a growling sound deep in his throat.

"Got ten times the brains of you, too!" Ronnie snapped. It wasn't much of a comeback, but she really wasn't in the mood to deal with Malfoy on top of everything else. "Sod off, Malfoy!"

"Ah, the traditional Weasley lack of manners," came the silky voice of the blonde-haired man, who had stepped out behind Malfoy. Ronnie had never met this man before, but knew at once who he was; this was Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius Malfoy.

He looked pretty much like she'd imagined him; a larger, older version of his son with the fanciest robes Ronnie had ever seen and a seemingly-permanent expression on his face that hinted that as far as he was concerned, the entire world was inferior to him.

"So," he said, looking coolly at Ronnie. "You're Arthur Weasley's daughter. Draco has told me so much about you." His tone of voice left no room for doubt that none of the things he'd been told had been good. "Your parents allow you to run around Knockturn Alley? I wish I could say I was shocked, but knowing your irresponsible father -"

"She's a bloody loony!" the shabby wizard groaned as he unsteadily got back to his feet. "She kicked me right in the nads!"

"Doesn't surprise me in the slightest," said Mr. Malfoy, with no apparent sympathy. "Certain families have no idea how to teach their children how to behave. I do feel for poor Harry Potter, staying with such a poor excuse for a wizard family."

"At least _we _aren't Death Eaters who bribed our way out of Azkaban!" Ronnie snarled.

Draco Malfoy turned red with anger. "I ought to hex you for that, Weasley!"

"Draco!" his father snapped at him, before looking at Ronnie with a contempt much colder and more dispassionate than his son's; the expression was that of a man who's just seen a particularly annoying insect he longs to crush between his fingers. "There's no point in getting your hands dirty. People such as her always meet the end they deserve."

Crookshanks hissed at him, angrily swishing his tail back and forth.

And then, all of a sudden, a gruff voice called out from the other end of the street. _"Oi! What's goin' on here?"_

Ronnie turned, and her heart leapt with joy as she saw who had spoken. He towered over everyone, and with his wild black hair and beard, and moleskin overcoat, he looked at least twice as dangerous as any other patron of Knockturn Alley - but Ronnie immediately felt safe knowing that he was here.

"Hagrid!" she called, wanting to wave at him but being hindered by an armful of Crookshanks. The Malfoys looked surprised, and the shabby wizard made a slight squeaky noise and ran off before Hagrid came up to them.

Because now the huge man was heading towards them, with long strides. "Ronnie!" he said. "What're yeh doin' here? Dangerous place ter be wanderin' about, this!" He looked at the Malfoys, and then back at Ronnie. "Have these two _done _anythin' ter yeh?"

For the first time, Mr. Malfoy lost his cool. "Do I look like I touch filth?!" he spat furiously. "Come, Draco! Let's not waste our time here anymore!" And with that, he grabbed Draco's arm and dragged him off.

No sooner had he left before the door to _Borgin and Burkes_ opened again, and out stepped - Harry. He looked sooty and dishevelled, and the bridge on his glasses had broken so he had to hold them together with his hands, but otherwise he seemed unhurt, and he brightened when he saw Hagrid and Ronnie.

"Hagrid! Ronnie! Am I glad to see you!" Relief was apparent in his voice. "I got lost in the Floo - where are we?"

"Nowhere yeh should be skulkin' about - either o' yeh," said Hagrid. "C'mon, I'll take yeh back ter Diagon Alley."

"Yes, please," said Harry, and then blinked, adjusted his glasses and looked at Crookshanks. "Whose cat is that?" he said curiously.

Crookshanks looked back at him, half-closed his eyes and began purring loudly. It was almost as if he was proud of himself. And a thought entered Ronnie's head: Had he guided her to _Borgin and Burkes_ on purpose because he wanted to help her find Harry? But no, that was silly - how could Crookshanks have known where Harry was, or that she was looking for Harry in the first place? Animals often had surprising abilities, but still...

She didn't have time to think about it, because now Hagrid appeared to think they'd stayed in Knockturn Alley for long enough, and he gently but firmly steered them both back down the twisting alleyway towards the safety of Diagon Alley.

As they walked, Harry told the story of how he'd ended up inside _Borgin and Burkes:_

Like Miss Scamander had surmised, he'd fallen out of the wrong grate and found himself in a very unpleasant place, which had turned out to be Borgin and Burkes. Since the owner had been in the back room and hadn't noticed the arrival, he'd planned on sneaking out and go look for Diagon Alley and the Weasleys, but just then Malfoy and his father had shown up. Not wanting to confront Malfoy in his current state, he'd hidden in a conveniently-placed cabinet and stayed there while the Malfoys talked to Mr. Borgin, the shopkeeper.

"Looked like a nasty place," said Ronnie. "What were they buying? A pet Lethifold, or a self-chopping guillotine?"

"They weren't buying at all, they were selling," said Harry. "They mentioned your father a few times, actually. Mr. Malfoy said that now that Arthur Weasley was losing that Muggle Protection Act, he'd probably strike down harder in other areas, and that he didn't want to risk certain things being discovered in his home. I think he said something about poisons."

"Those Malfoys," Hagrid growled. "Rotten ter the core. An' all those things they said abou' yeh in the _Daily Prophet!"_

"Dad'll be interested to hear about those poisons, at least, I bet he'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something," said Ronnie, and couldn't help feeling a certain glee at the thought that her Dad might get the Malfoys into _real _trouble.

By now they'd reached the far sunnier and more crowded Diagon Alley, right by the apothecary that Crookshanks had ducked behind, and Hagrid declared that Harry looked "a righ' mess" and brushed the worst soot of him so forcefully that he nearly fell over. Ronnie quickly took a step back, hoping that Hagrid wouldn't decide she looked too sooty too.

"I'd better get Crookshanks back to the _Magical Menagerie," _she said, somewhat reluctantly. She was really starting to like this odd cat, who was purring contentedly in her arms, but she knew he wasn't hers. "And then we'd better find the family. Mum's probably beside herself with worry now."

Harry, who had caught his breath again after Hagrid's brushing, looked at Crookshanks again through his broken glasses. "That's the strangest cat I've seen. Is he magical?" he asked curiously.

Ronnie looked at him. "Dunno," she admitted. "The _Magical Menagerie_ has all sorts of animals, magical ones too, but -"

"Lemme see that." Hagrid bent down to take a better look at Crookshanks. "Don' usually like cats much, they make me sneeze summat awful, but..." He broke into a wide grin behind his bushy beard. "But this 'un's no normal cat! See the large ears, the speckles in 'is fur? Half-Kneazle, if I'm any judge!"

"Oh!" Ronnie gasped. Suddenly a lot of things made sense. "Then maybe he _did _know where you were, Harry!"

Not for the first time that day, Harry looked like he had no clue about anything that was said. "Er," he said. "What's a half-Kneazle?"

"Part cat, part Kneazle, of course!" said Ronnie.

"Right. And you might be able to guess my next question, then..."

"A Kneazle's a magic animal, Harry," said Hagrid. "Like a cat, 'cept different. Ruddy smart beasts, understand anythin' yeh say, can find their way anywhere. Reckon a Kneazle's even better at findin' lost people than a dog is. Never get lost either, can always find their way home."

"Most animals can always find their way home," said Ronnie. "Even normal cats."

"Yeah, well, true," said Hagrid. "Kneazles are extra good at it, though. Smart buggers, like I said. Always seem ter know it if someone can be trusted or not, too."

"He certainly didn't like the Malfoys, or that creepy bloke," said Ronnie.

"There yeh are, then! An' they can breed with cats, so there's lotsa half-Kneazles about! Cheaper than pure-bred Kneazles, but almost as smart, an' much easier ter pass off as normal cats, if yeh happen ter live close ter Muggles!"

"So you heard me telling Miss Scamander that I was looking for Harry, and wanted to help, did you?" Ronnie stroked Crookshanks. "You're sweet! Oh, I wish I didn't have to take you back to the shop."

Crookshanks took a firm grip on her coat with his claws and didn't look like he wanted to let go to soon. _Bugger the shop, I'm staying with you, _he seemed to be saying.

"But I can't afford you, Crookshanks!" Ronnie felt a lump in her throat, and was surprised at herself. She always had animals follow her and falling for her, and usually ended up having to leave them behind. She was used to it; why would she start crying for this particular animal?

"I can," Harry suddenly said. "I think I probably have enough money _on _me. Not like there was a lot to spend it on at the Dursleys'."

Ronnie's heart skipped a beat. "Could you - lend me the money?" she asked, hesitant but hopeful. She hated asking for loans (the Weasleys had their pride, after all!), but right here and right now... she could make an exception.

Harry grinned."I can do you one better," he said. "I didn't get you anything last Christmas, remember?"

"Other than saving me from You-Know-Who?"

"You saved me from the Dursleys, so we're even there. Come on."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Ronnie and Harry stepped out of the Magical Menagerie, Ronnie carrying a delighted Crookshanks.

Miss Scamander had been very happy when they had returned with Crookshanks and even happier when Ronnie had asked how much he cost. She'd sold him for a price that Ronnie suspected was far below what he was really worth; either because she was happy to be rid of him, or because she was happy that Ronnie was the one who got him - or possibly both. The Galleons Harry'd had in his pockets (he went around with _several Galleons_ in his _pocket!)_ had been enough not only for Crookshanks but also for a large bag of the owl treats he'd promised Hedwig.

Hagrid was waiting for them outside - and so, to their pleasant surprise, were the rest of the Weasleys, who all brightened up at the sight of them.

"Look who I found!" said Hagrid.

That was all anyone had the time to say before Mum wrapped her arms around Ronnie in a hug that squeezed poor Crookshanks a little more than he really appreciated, and said in a voice almost exactly between anger and relief: "You never, ever do anything like that again, Veronica Weasley!"

"Mum - you're squeezing Crookshanks!" Ronnie tried.

"Crookshanks?" Mum let go and stared at the cat as if she hadn't properly noticed him for the first time. "Great heavens, child! Are you saying you're planning on keeping that - that -" She was apparently searching for words.

"Half-Kneazle," said Ronnie. and then hurried to add: "He helped me find Harry, and he won't be any trouble, I'll take him with me to Hogwarts! And I don't have any other pets right now, and you know I'll take good care of him..."

Ronnie knew that Mum deep down was proud of her daughter's way with animals, even if she had often complained about the various creatures Ronnie had been trekking home to the Burrow. And Crookshanks, who was clearly living up to his reputation as a smart bugger, had almost immediately decided that this lady was someone it paid to be friends with. And so he purred and rubbed his head against Mum's arm, looking as cute as he could manage.

Mum relented. "Oh - well, I suppose," she said. "But I want you to be on your best behaviour this year, is that clear? And if I ever see you near Knockturn Alley again -"

"George," said Fred dramatically. "The time has come for us to face reality. We are no longer the problem children of the family. Look what our dear little sister's getting up to these days; stealing cars, hobnobbing with Dark wizards in Knockturn Alley. How could we possibly top that?"

"We can't," George sighed. "We'd better start studying and become respectable like Percy. Didn't I hear some rumour going about that we were taking our OWLs next year? Maybe we should actually try doing well on them."

"Let's not get carried away!" said Fred. "Come to think of it, being in second place isn't too bad! If Ron becomes the black sheep of the family, anything we do will seem that much less horrible."

"True, true. Maybe we can even blow up that toilet this year and not get any Howlers from Mum about it."

"If you think you're being funny -" Percy began.

"We _know _we're being Funny, Perce," said Fred. "It's not our fault you're so slow to catch on."

Percy huffed, but nobody paid too much attention to him, because everyone was checking that Harry was all right, and saying hello to Crookshanks. If Ronnie had ever doubted that her family were on the whole good people, she got ample proof of it now, because Crookshanks amiably accepted pettings and scratching from them all - he even licked Dad's hand at that point (though this _might _be because there had been bacon for breakfast).

"Well," said Hagrid. "Now that yeh're back with the family, I'd best be off. Got a bit more shoppin' ter do."

"Thank you for taking care of them, Hagrid!" said Mum.

"Always happy ter help, yeh know that. Say hello ter Charlie, if yeh talk ter him! So long, Harry - Ronnie!"

Harry waved to Hagrid as he made hs way down the street, while Ronnie presented Crookshanks to Ginny, the only one who hadn't properly greeted him yet.

Ginny had always liked cats, and was delighted to pet Crookshanks's fluffy fur - but after Crookshanks had closed his eyes and rubbed his head against her hand for a bit, he stopped, sniffed out in the air and turned his head to stare downwards towards Ginny's coat pocket. A low, growling sound rose in his throat.

"What's wrong?!" said Ronnie, surprised. Did the cat suddenly decide that he didn't like Ginny?

"Uh-oh." Ginny took a step back. "He's looking at the pocket Scabbers is in."

"Oh - smelling a rat, are you?" Ronnie breathed a sigh of relief. It would be awful if Crookshanks had taken a dislike to her little sister, but if it was Scabbers he sensed, that was all right... and then she suddenly felt guilty. She hadn't remembered Scabbers at all when falling for Crookshanks, and hadn't thought about how he'd probably be sleeping in her room where Scabbers's cage was. But a cat and a rat in the same room, that was just asking for trouble, no matter how smart the cat was.

"Keep him away from Scabbers!" said Ginny, taking a few more steps back. Crookshanks followed her with his eyes, tensing in Ronnie's arms.

"Crookshanks, no snacking on Ginny's rat!" said Ronnie firmly.

The cat turned his head and gave her a look that could mean anything. His tail was flicking agitatedly against her hip.

"I think I'll just stay a bit away from you and that cat while we're here," said Ginny, ducking behind Percy.

"Well," said Dad with forced cheerfulness. "Now that we're all back together, we'd better pay Gringotts a visit, and then we have some school supplies to buy! Besides," he added with a bit more genuine cheer, "the Grangers will be waiting for us!"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I'll admit it, Crookshanks is my favourite animal character from the series (though Fawkes is a clear second), and I've really been looking forward to introducing him. I'll admit to taking a slight inspiration from _Harry Potter and the Nightmares of Futures Past, _where Crookshanks becomes Ron's pet... it's just such a surprisingly good fit that I couldn't resist letting Ronnie have him in this story. Scabbers is in trouble now...

For those of you not getting Ronnie's "pet Lethifold" comment; a Lethifold is an African creature and a sort of cousin to the Dementor - but where Dementors feed on happy emotions and souls, Lethifolds seek out sleeping people to suffocate them and digest them whole.

The Jarvey's in this chapter because I've basically always wanted to include a Jarvey in an HP story, and here was my chance.


End file.
